


truth (like blood under fingernails)

by SummerFrost



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Lovers - Speedrun Edition, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Devil Reveal, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Next Step in this Hookup: Shacking Up, Nostalgia, Tenderness, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22495003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerFrost/pseuds/SummerFrost
Summary: Dan knows exactly who Lucifer is when he makes a deal for help fixing Palmetto—which makes it even more annoying that he ends up liking him so fucking much.The Devil is real and Dan just crawled into bed with him.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Dan Espinoza, Dan Espinoza/Lucifer Morningstar, Dan Espinoza/Lucifer Morningstar/Original Characters, Trixie Decker & Dan Espinoza
Comments: 82
Kudos: 761





	truth (like blood under fingernails)

**Author's Note:**

> I intended to write like 12k of, like, season 1 hate sex, but somehow wound up with this? I'm quite fond of it even though I have no idea how it happened.
> 
> Extra special thanks to soundslikepenance, who beta'd, introduced me to the band Dvicio, and fed me several of the best emotional beats of this story.
> 
> The title is from Looking Too Closely by Fink, which is highly recommended listening.

Dan takes another sip of the whiskey, or scotch, or whateverthefuck he's drinking and winces when it stings his split lip. His knuckles are bruised and this stupid penthouse sucks up all the heat rising from the nightclub downstairs, and there are three casings on the ground but only two smashed up bullets.

This is fucking insane. Dan hasn't eaten in—

He doesn't know, actually. Malcolm grabbed him at night and it's night again, so at least a day. He doesn't think he was out for that long, so probably not two days, but his head hurts like a motherfucker and actually he probably shouldn't be drinking and why the fuck are there only two bullets?

Maybe one rolled under the couch.

There shouldn't be any bullets, because they should be lodged in Lucifer Morningstar's chest and also there should be blood on the floor and also Lucifer should be dead, maybe?

Dan drinks more whiskey. Lucifer told him he could help himself to a drink.  _ Two, even. Who says the Devil can't be charitable?  _ Christ, what the fuck is Dan's life?

He should probably go find Chloe, make sure she's okay. But then again—Lucifer made some kind of deal with Malcolm, and Dan's pretty sure that between the two of them, that would cover Chloe and not him. 

If the whole killing-Lucifer plan is off the table, does that make Dan and Malcolm cool? Or is Malcolm gonna tie up Dan's loose end like he tied up Paolucci's?

Why the  _ fuck  _ are there only two bullets?

Dan staggers to his feet and then gets on his hands and knees to crawl around on the floor, because, yeah, sure. The bullets and casings are all scattered around where Lucifer was laying in a  _ super dead way _ when Dan got here, and the bullets look like something out of a superhero movie where they smash against the dude's bulletproof chest or whatever.

Is Dan being punked? Maybe Lucifer was wearing a vest.

Dan finds the third bullet under the piano; it must have rolled there at some point, maybe when Lucifer got up. Super cool, mystery solved.

It doesn't make Dan feel any better about the fucking horrible everything that is his life. The whiskey might, though, and he's not gonna waste his one and a half remaining free drinks. He'll probably be broke and homeless and possibly in jail soon fucking anyway, so—

Gotta drink while he can.

He nurses the second one for so long that Lucifer comes back before he's finished.

"Dearie me," says Lucifer, kicking another bullet under the couch. "This place is a mess. Oh, Detective Douche! I see you took me up on my offer."

Dan ditches his glass on the counter and slides to his feet again, blinking when the room tilts a little. He narrows his eyes at Lucifer before staggering over to feel up his chest.

"De _ -tective,  _ this is rather forward of you," Lucifer purrs. Dan ignores him, running his thumb over a bullethole in the shirt and feeling the unblemished—and warm, actually, really warm—skin underneath. "But alright, I accept. I just imported new sheets from Milan—they're  _ divine." _

Dan shakes his head and takes a step back; no vest, no blood. He doesn't understand how this could be—

"Er, Daniel, why don't you have a seat?" Lucifer places a hand on Dan's back and steers him back over to the bar; Dan follows without talking, climbing into his chair. "Right. Exactly how large were those drinks you helped yourself to?"

It doesn't make sense. Dan massages his temples. He's in pretty rough shape—there's probably a totally reasonable explanation that'll come to him once he's sober and not suffering possible brain damage and has some food in him.

"Uh, sorry? Normal ones, I just—I haven't eaten in…" Fuck. Dan looks up at Lucifer. "How long have I been missing?"

Lucifer frowns, pouring himself a drink from the same bottle. "You were missing?"

Dan laughs helplessly and buries his face in his hands. "Right. Right, of course, no one even noticed I was fucking  _ kidnapped. _ I mean, why would they, right? I'm just—"

"We last spoke thirty-three hours ago," Lucifer says. Dan peeks through his fingers, surprised. "I  _ noticed.  _ But considering we don't particularly care for each other, I didn't jump to any nefarious explanation for your absence in my life."

"Oh." Dan nudges his nearly-empty glass with a glum finger. "Did—did Chloe look for me?"

Lucifer snorts. "Considering you dumped her via 'text' last night, I doubt it."

_ "What?"  _ Dan asks. Lucifer blinks rapidly at the outburst, raising his glass to his lips. Fuck, Dan couldn't find his phone anywhere in that basement, which explains— "Fuck, Malcolm must have—my life is fucking ruined, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say—actually, could we revisit the 'kidnapping' bit?" Lucifer asks.

Dan, resigned, says, "Sure."

"Right. So you were kidnapped and—" Lucifer gestures at Dan's face, which tells Dan he should probably look in a mirror. "And the first thing you did was drive—"

"I ran," says Dan.

"You  _ ran?" _

Dan stares at him. "Malcolm took my wallet. I have no idea where my fucking car is. I ran."

Lucifer stares back. "The first thing you did was  _ run  _ to my club to prevent my murder?"

"Well, yeah," Dan snarks. "Why go through the trouble of getting kidnapped if I'm just gonna let you get shot anyway."

Lucifer tilts his head, expression turning more thoughtful. He gestures with the bottle of whiskey and says, "Have a third drink, Detective."

Dan starts to hold out his glass on instinct, then comes to his senses and pulls it back towards him. "Uh, I sh—thanks, but I shouldn't. I mean, I should go. I haven't—fuck, man, I've gotta un-fuck my life."

"Well, have you contacted the detective?" Lucifer asks.

Dan says, "I don't have my phone."

"You can use the staff phone downstairs," Lucifer offers.

Dan blinks. "You don't have a—nevermind. I'm not gonna call Chloe on a  _ staff phone  _ after I apparently dumped her over text, dude. That's more of an in-person apology."

"Well, fine." Lucifer holds up a hand. "Only trying to be helpful."

Dan nods at him in resignation. This is his fucking life now, apparently. His fingers tap against the bar—which is jet black with swirls of gray in a mesmerizing pattern.

"Is this granite?" he asks.

"Marble," Lucifer answers. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"It doesn't," Dan says. "I might be drunk. Oh my God, why am I here? Why are there bullets on your floor?"

"Because Mrs. Dunlear shot me." Lucifer is speaking slowly, like Dan's being an idiot. "Are you quite alright?"

Dan says, "No," and then, "She  _ shot  _ you?" which he kind of knew, except for it hadn't totally sunk in given the fact that— "You're not  _ dead." _

"I know! Marvelous, isn't it?" Lucifer hums like Dan's dad does at crossword puzzles. "Though it raises some questions. It seems my 'mortality sitch' is circumstantial."

"Fuck." Dan shoves his fingers into his hair. "Fuck, what the the fuck."

There's a pause, then the sound of Lucifer's perfect fucking tuxedo rustling as he walks back around the bar.

"Daniel," he asks, "why don't you let me fix you some dinner—in lieu of that drink?"

Dan turns his head; Lucifer is suddenly standing right next to him, looking down with a mild frown. "Why're you being nice to me, man?"

"Well, you did  _ attempt  _ to prevent my being shot," Lucifer tells him wryly. "And I've heard it's the thought that counts."

Dan shrugs with one shoulder and hops to his feet when Lucifer offers him a hand.

"Plus, you do look quite pitiful like this—it'd be like kicking a puppy to turn you away," Lucifer cheerfully adds, then drags Dan by the wrist into a massive bathroom.

Yeah, there it is. But whatever. It's not like Dan's life could get weirder  _ or  _ worse.

"Right. Wash up while I throw something together in the kitchen, and then we'll see to that face." Lucifer clucks at him, wagging one finger in Dan's general direction, and then vanishes around the corner.

Dan sighs. He turns the shower on and then finally looks in the mirror while he waits for the water to warm up—and winces at his reflection. The lip is even worse than he thought and the right side of his face is swollen and bruised, with a massive cut on his cheek.

There's bruising on his side, too, from when he and Malcolm fought. He digs two fingers into the space between two of his ribs, hissing, but it does nothing to sober him up. 

The water pressure is fucking perfect, obviously, and there's a bench in the shower that Dan deliberately ignores the implied purpose of so he can sit down on it without cringing. There's four different types of shampoo, all for people with different hair types.

How often do strangers use this fucking shower?

Dan closes his eyes and inhales the steam. This is the worst fucking idea. He should've left after the first drink. He shouldn't have had any drinks. Lucifer knocks on the door and slips into the bathroom and says, "I've laid fresh clothes out on the vanity," and Dan makes a vaguely human noise in response.

The door closes again. 

Showering helps a little, overall. Dan turns the water off and towels himself dry, then spends a long time with his face pressed into the fluffy towel, breathing through his nose and letting his eyes stay shut in the dark.

Afterwards, he slips into the clothes Lucifer left for him—sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, neither of which seem remotely Lucifer's style—and follows the sound of an oven beeping into the kitchen.

"Ah, perfect timing!" Lucifer tells him, sliding a glass dish into the oven. "Dinner will be ready shortly."

"Uh, okay," says Dan. 

Lucifer unties his apron—which says  _ 'Kiss the Cook' _ —and tosses it onto the table. "Right, have a seat and wait here."

Dan sits, eyeing two pots that are boiling on the stove. It smells amazing in here, which almost makes him irrationally angry except the chairs are really nice and it's honestly just cool to be sitting on a chair instead of a dusty basement floor.

Lucifer returns with some kind of first aid kit, plopping down next to Dan and clicking the case open. He cups Dan's jaw in one hand and hums thoughtfully, tilting his face to get a better look at the injured cheek. 

His own face feels, like, unnecessarily close, and he pokes his tongue out while he scrutinizes, apparently without noticing. Dan feels something in his stomach turn over. 

"It doesn't look like it'll need stitching," Lucifer decides, then pats Dan below the cut. "This will sting, though. Try not to whine about it."

"I'm not gonna—" Dan hisses when Lucifer cleans up the cut anyway, though. Fucking rubbing alcohol. 

Lucifer huffs out a laugh and says, "Valiant effort."

It's gentler than his normal teasing. Dan doesn't know what to do with that.

"You know, you actually have lovely cheekbones," Lucifer muses. His fingers are back on Dan's jaw, cupping his chin. "This could heal into a charming sort of scar—ruggedly handsome? Yay or nay?"

Dan can feel his unkempt stubble scraping against Lucifer's fingertips. He looks at the carefully trimmed line of Lucifer's beard—then up at the eyes, which are glinting with something that makes it hard to swallow.

"Uh… nay?" he manages.

"Suit yourself," Lucifer says, then reaches for some weird cream in his kit that he smoothes over the cut.

He's gentle enough that it doesn't hurt, exactly—but Dan gets that pre-hurt feeling, where there's the threat of something underneath and your body shudders, just a little—just in case. He feels it in his teeth and presses them into his bottom lip.

The blood almost tastes good on his tongue. Lucifer mutters,  _ "Honestly, _ entirely hopeless," under his breath and dabs at Dan's lip with a cotton ball and downturned eyes.

Dan tries to smile, which makes the split hurt worse. The sharp pain snaps him out of it and he leans away from Lucifer, who blinks at him like he's righting something that toppled over.

Lucifer clears his throat. "Right. Linguine or fettuccine?"

"What?" asks Dan.

"My subtlety is lost on you," Lucifer gripes, shutting the first aid kit and wandering back over to the stove. He reaches into a cabinet that he plucks out a box of raw pasta from and then dumps a bunch into one of the pots on the stove.

Dan taps his fingers on the table restlessly. He watches Lucifer flit around the kitchen, stirring the other pot and then pulling a giant chunk of parmesan cheese out of the fridge.

He looks so… like, at  _ home,  _ here. Which, duh, they're literally in his house. But Dan kind of always, like, imagined Lucifer as this guy who  _ appeared  _ places—sometimes literally, with logistics that make no fucking sense—and this place is, like—

Impeccably decorated, obviously, and all the appliances and stuff look ridiculously fucking expensive, but there's a chip in the vase of flowers on the table and the stash of band-aids in the first aid kit was half-empty, and Lucifer hums to himself while he grates cheese in a totally normal way that makes him feel  _ real  _ on a level that Dan hadn't totally considered.

It's weird. Dan pockets the bloody cotton ball pressed to his lip and watches Lucifer scoop up a ladle-full of pasta water that he dumps into the other pot.

Then Lucifer drains the pasta and mixes it into the other pot, which is apparently a homemade sauce—because of course it is. 

Right after that, the oven timer goes off with eerie precision, and Lucifer almost grabs the dish out without putting on oven mitts before Dan yelps,  _ "Dude!" _

"Ah, right. Silly me." Lucifer waggles his eyebrows at Dan like there's a joke he's missing. Dan presses his fingertips into his temples.

The food looks amazing. Dan's so hungry that he feels sick. 

"I hope it's to your liking," Lucifer says, sitting down across from Dan after he sets a glass of water and the bowl of grated cheese between them. "Thrown together last minute as it were."

Dan looks up from literally inhaling his food and asks, "Your idea of 'throwing something together last minute' is homemade spaghetti sauce and chicken cutlets?"

"Technically it's not 'spaghetti' sauce," Lucifer says, pointing at Dan's plate with an eager smile. "Those are linguine."

Dan shakes his head. Lucifer is looking at him like his opinion  _ actually  _ matters, which is ridiculous, because Dan's not exactly a food snob and up until like an hour ago he smelled like psycho killer basement, and also Lucifer doesn't even  _ like  _ him.

But, "It's really good," Dan tells him. "Where'd you learn to cook like this, man?"

"This, specifically?" Lucifer hums. "A delightful weekend in Rome… what was it, now? Forty years ago, give or take."

Dan snorts, but Lucifer isn't laughing. He raises a pointed eyebrow at Dan as he takes a sip of his wine. His throat bobs, guiding Dan's eyes down to his unbuttoned collar; his bowtie is undone, draped around his neck, and he's ditched the tuxedo jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. 

There are three bulletholes in the shirt. 

Dan cuts himself another bite of chicken and forces his eyes away. Lucifer's fingers are wrapped loosely around the wine glass; he wears an ornate ring on that hand, with a black stone that seems almost…

"You're staring, darling." Lucifer quirks his lips in a smirk. "You'll give a Devil ideas like that. Is my cooking the only thing you're drooling over?"

Dan ignores him. Or—doesn't, exactly, because he knows he's staring and he can feel this—this  _ thing  _ in the air, and he reaches across the table and wraps his fingers around Lucifer's wrist.

But it's—

Lucifer demurely asks, "Oh?" and wets his bottom lip. His eyes are dark, smoldering. They drop to the knife in Dan's other hand, and Dan looks at it too. 

He turns it between his fingers, running a thumb up the dull side. The point nicks him and he looks up when he flinches.

Lucifer caresses the edge of Dan's palm. "You should do it," he says lowly. "You're curious, aren't you?"

Dan's mouth is dry. He tries to swallow and can't remember how. This is insane. It's insane on every level and Lucifer's skin is so warm and he leans over when Dan tugs him forward.

"It's alright, Daniel," Lucifer murmurs. His eyes flick up to Dan's mouth, down to the knife again. Like he's tempting both. "You know what you want."

Dan holds his breath and tightens his grip, and drags the knife across Lucifer's wrist.

It makes a scraping sound, like dragging rock against rock. There's no blood—not even a scratch.

Dan sinks back against his chair with both hands up. He hears the knife clattering belatedly, like it's muffled behind a sheet of water. He doesn't say anything.

Lucifer reaches lazily for his wine glass like he's a little bored, waiting.

Finally, Dan asks, "What are you?"

"I'm the Devil, darling." Lucifer takes a sip. "We've been over this."

"Why are you here?" Dan asks.

"I've retired," says Lucifer.

Dan purses his lips. "To LA?"

"It  _ is  _ the City of Angels," Lucifer says, perfectly reasonably. He sets the wine glass back down.

Dan nearly knocks his glass of water over reaching for the wine. He curses, shoves the water out of the way, chugs the wine. 

"Why are you solving crimes with my wife?"

"Ex-wife." 

"We're separated."

Lucifer shrugs. "Old habits die hard."

Dan presses his face into his hands. "What?"

"Why, I'm punishing killers, of course." Lucifer sighs dramatically. "I've spent all evening putting you back together and here you are, falling to pieces again."

"I'm not falling apart!" Dan snaps. "You're the fucking  _ Devil." _

"Yes, yes. We've been over that bit," Lucifer shoots back testily. "Do try to keep up."

Dan takes a gulping breath and looks up at him. "Who else knows? Does Chloe know? Jesus Christ, is your bartender a demon?"

"Which one?" Lucifer asks innocently.

Dan glares at him.

"Yes, Mazikeen is a demon." Lucifer pours the rest of the wine bottle into his glass. "No, the detective doesn't know—not for lack of trying on my part. You're the first human who has believed me. Well, excluding ones I've punished, but those are  _ slightly _ different circumstances."

"Why?" Dan asks.

"Well, they've all seen my face, for one," Lucifer says.

Dan narrows his eyes. "Your… face?"

"My Devil face," Lucifer explains brightly. He takes a sip of wine and then holds out the glass for Dan, which he takes. "It's rather horrifying, by all accounts. Best you just take my word for it."

"This is so fucked up," says Dan. He brings the glass to his mouth on reflex and sets it back down without drinking. "This is  _ so fucked up.  _ Oh, my God. Do you own my soul now? Is that why you're here? Are you collecting souls? Are you—"

Lucifer stands up abruptly, his eyes flashing with something indescribably— "I have no dominion over your soul. I've never made  _ any  _ of you do  _ anything." _

It's not anger. Or, it is. But there's a wound underneath—the oozing kind. And Dan shouldn't believe what he says, or anything else, but he does.

"Okay," Dan says softly. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't—how could I know?"

Lucifer shakes his head, laughing under his breath and without any joy. His eyes are a little wet and he starts making his way around the table, dragging his fingers along the edge.

"Because you  _ know  _ me?" he suggests, his voice tight. "Because I've done nothing but  _ help  _ you people for the past few—"

Dan stands up too, feeling his temper flare defensively.  _ "Seriously?  _ Like you haven't been a total asshole to me since I met you!"

"You wanted to sweep Delilah's murder under the rug," Lucifer growls. "She was my  _ friend." _

"I wasn't—" 

Dan cuts off. Lucifer—the fucking  _ Devil— _ is standing in front of him, and he should probably be running for the fucking door. But—

"I thought I was doing the right thing," he says instead, and he lifts his chin when Lucifer tries to tower over him. "And you've been a smug bastard ever since. You put Chloe in—"

"I am  _ not  _ smug!" Lucifer argues.

"You call me  _ 'Detective Douche,'"  _ Dan snaps, taking a half-step closer. "You keep trying to fuck my wife—"

"Ex-wife."

_ "Separated!" _

Lucifer slams his hand on the table. "Then why bother saving my life? You could have just let the bloody bastard shoot me if I'm so deplorable!"

"Not  _ literally _ wanting you dead's a pretty low  _ fucking  _ bar," Dan snarks.

"My father cast me into Hell!" Lucifer shouts. "My brother is the reason Malcolm came to shoot me. So, no, Detective  _ Douche _ —it is  _ not _ a low bar."

Dan is stunned into silence. 

Lucifer blinks, glances down.

Eventually, Dan asks, "Your—your brother sent Malcolm?"

"It appears that way," Lucifer grits out.

"Jesus, dude," Dan jokes weakly, "if you wanted a pity party you coulda just led with that."

Lucifer scoffs and goes to move away. "I don't want your  _ pity,  _ Det—"

Dan fists a hand in the front of his shirt and pulls him back. Lucifer braces his hands behind himself, leaning against the table with raised eyebrows somewhere between amused and shocked.

"You didn't deserve to die," Dan says. He can feel the rise of Lucifer's chest when he breathes. "I mean, you're a total dick, and obnoxious, and totally irresponsible—"

"Have you ever given a compliment before?" Lucifer asks.

"I'm working my way up to it." 

Dan closes his eyes for a second. His hand flattens over Lucifer's chest, relaxing the grip on his shirt. One of the buttons was nicked by a bullet and it's scraping against Dan's skin and he should move away, but there's this—this  _ pull,  _ or something. Like there are some things that need to be said from up close.

Dan says them, finally. To the chipped button, first, his hand slowly drifting down on its own, and then to the wide, human eyes. "But you're also—I've seen you be kind, Lucifer, and you cared about Delilah like no one else in her life did. And you stuck up for my kid when me and Chloe were being assholes right in front of her."

"You… tried to save me because you think I'm kind?" Lucifer asks, his voice tentative in a way Dan's never heard it before.

"I guess so," says Dan.

"But I'm very much in the way of your life," Lucifer protests. The table creaks under the flex of his knuckles. "You could have gotten rid of me."

Dan shakes his head. His hand is still pressed against Lucifer's stomach. He can feel the heat radiating off his body from this close, can feel how expensive the shirt is when he rubs it under his thumb.

"Don't give me too much credit. I wanted to," he says. "But I—I couldn't do it."

"I see." Lucifer is watching Dan's hand with an expression that— "And what is it that you want to do to me instead?"

Dan looks between their bodies, then back up again. He's touching the Devil. He's touching a man who cleaned the blood from his mouth. 

He pretends he doesn't understand the question.

"I don't…" Dan pulls his hand away, holding it awkwardly between them before running it through his hair. "I don't want anything."

"Everyone wants something, Detective," Lucifer tells him softly. "I should know."

Dan takes a step back and says, "Not like this."

"But I owe you a favor," Lucifer insists. "You tried to save my life, at great sacrifice."

Dan blinks. "That wasn't—I didn't do it for an IOU, man. It was just the right thing to do."

"I'm not in the business of accepting charity," Lucifer snaps. "I told you, I don't need your pity."

Dan shifts to the side this time, his hip pressing up against the table. "Why're you doing this? I thought we—" he gestures between them, not sure how to finish the sentence. "I didn't help you to get something back."

"Because you're wrong, Detective Douche." Lucifer bares his teeth in a snarl. "I'm not  _ kind,  _ I don't deserve the  _ right thing _ —I'm the Devil. And I owe you your due."

_ "Fine."  _ Dan throws his hands up in frustration, eyes casting around the room. They settle on the half-eaten food. "Uh, I want you to make me dinner—whoops, already did it, we're even now."

Lucifer makes a derisive noise. "It doesn't work  _ retroactively." _

Dan snaps, "That's  _ bullshit!  _ This whole favor thing is 'retroactive.' I didn't call you up yesterday, like, 'hey, buddy, if I get kidnapped for you will you make me spaghetti?'"

"It's  _ linguine.  _ And  _ I'm  _ the Devil, so I make the favor rules."

"Oh, fuck off!" Dan turns his back on him and runs both hands through his hair. "Jesus Christ, you're a fucking child."

Lucifer grits out, "You do realize I could  _ make  _ you tell me what you want, right?"

That makes Dan stop short. He stays facing away, eyes fixed carefully on a painting on the far wall. "Don't—please."

"Then just  _ ask  _ me for something." The edge drops from Lucifer's voice. "Let me repay you, Detec—Daniel. Please."

Dan closes his eyes and turns around slowly, holding his breath. He waits, just a second, before he opens them.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, I, uh—let me hide out here tonight, just on the couch or something. So I can avoid Malcolm."

Lucifer's face brightens. "Right. He may discover you've escaped and come after you—my penthouse is much safer than going home."

Dan can't resist; he makes a  _ so-so  _ gesture with one hand and points out, "I mean, a lady did shoot you tonight."

Lucifer rolls his eyes and points at himself, like,  _ 'And look how not-dead I am.' _

"Whatever," says Dan. "Can we do this and call it even?"

"Absolutely. Let me make up the couch." Lucifer pats him on the arm on his way out of the room, pausing in the doorway. "Ah, finish your dinner, if you'd like."

Why not? Dan eats in silence while Lucifer does whatever he's up to in the other room, then washes the plates and stuff in the sink. He feels like a dick just leaving them there, but it's probably equally dickish to snoop through the cabinets so he can figure out where they go.

After that, Dan wanders back into the living room and finds the couch covered with sheets and blankets and Lucifer fluffing a pillow at one end.

"Uh, hey," Dan says, clearing his throat. "Can I help with anything, or…?"

"All set." Lucifer straightens, hands folded neatly in front of him. "Are you heading to sleep now?"

"Uh, yeah, if that's cool." Dan rubs his ear self-consciously. "It's, uh, kinda been a long day, so."

Lucifer says, "Of course. I'll just be—well, over there. I think I'll turn in myself."

"Sure," Dan tells him. Then, when neither of them moves, "Uh, thanks. For—for everything."

Lucifer's face is hard to read with the lights turned down low. He looks like he smiles, but his eyebrows are furrowed. 

"Likewise," he says, and vanishes into his bedroom.

Dan crawls onto the couch and curls up under the blankets. It's big enough for him to lay flat comfortably, but he feels wrong without his back to something. He can see Lucifer's bed from this angle, and hear the sounds of clothing rustling—he assumes Lucifer changing out of his clothes.

Which is another weird thing—the idea of Lucifer wearing something besides a suit that's worth Dan's paycheck. And the idea of Lucifer sleeping. Does the Devil  _ sleep? _ He said he was gonna turn in, but maybe that was just, like, an expression so Dan wouldn't feel weird.

"Hey," Dan asks, "do you, like, sleep?"

"Do I  _ sleep?"  _ Lucifer answers, sounding equal parts amused and offended. "Of course I do. Goodness, you humans have the strangest notions."

Dan turns his head to watch Lucifer make a show of climbing into bed. "How am I supposed to know? Catholic school didn't have a unit on 'what not to ask when the Devil moves in next door.'"

"Oh, a good Catholic boy, are you?" Lucifer asks, mildly surprised. His voice turns teasing. "You're not going to attempt an exorcism, I hope."

Dan grimaces, turning his face back to the ceiling. "I wouldn't say  _ 'good.'  _ And… no?"

"In that case," Lucifer tells him, "ask me all the absurd questions you'd like—in the morning, preferably."

"Right, sorry." Dan blinks rapidly when Lucifer shuts off the lights. It's far from pitch black thanks to the big windows by the balcony, but it's… cozier, like this. "Uh, goodnight, I guess?"

Lucifer says, "Sleep well, Detective," and rolls to face away.

Dan sighs, turning onto his side again and trying to get comfortable. The couch is, like, weirdly soft, and it's just—

He should be exhausted. Like, it's probably past midnight and he's had the  _ worst  _ fucking day or two days or whatever, and things are terrible. He should be out like a light.

But there's this pit in his stomach and if he tries to think too hard his brain keeps flashing images of Malcolm's face, and when he tries to think about nothing he can hear the sound of the knife scraping against Lucifer's skin. And it's—it's—

Too quiet. He wants to be able to hear Lux downstairs, or an ambulance speeding past on the street. His head hurts again, and so does the lip. The lip Lucifer's fingers brushed against when he dabbed at the blood. Which Dan had because Malcolm hit him and—

Fuck, Dan's not gonna panic. It's gonna—things'll be fine. It'll be better in the morning when he can sort everything out, and he needs to fucking sleep.

_ How is any of this gonna be fine? _

Dan tries to roll over, facing the back of the couch. He flops onto his back. Kicks the blanket halfway off, then tucks his feet back under and cocoons inside it. Gets up and turns the whole setup around so he's facing the elevator instead of the windows. 

Lucifer sighs from the other room.

Fuck this. Fuck the stupid couch. Fuck staring at the ceiling and feeling like he's going to dissolve away into nothing.

Dan rolls to his feet and takes the pillow with him. He trips over the first step leading into the bedroom and curses, biting into his palm when the pain radiates through his big toe.

"Are you quite alright?" Lucifer grumbles. 

Dan's eyes are adjusted well enough for him to tell that Lucifer is on his side, facing away. He braces a hand on the wall and hobbles up the rest of the stairs, wincing when he puts down the bad foot.

"This isn't part of the favor," he says, voice coming out scratchy. "You can tell me to fuck off."

Silence. Fuck, this was such a bad idea. Why did Dan think this would—

"Right," Lucifer says slowly, rolling onto his back. "If you're getting in, do try to do it before the sun rises."

Dan coughs lightly in the back of his throat and tosses the pillow onto the bed before climbing under the covers.

The sheets are really fucking nice. Dan closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, curling his fingers against the smooth fabric. It slips through his fingers and sends little shivers up his tendons.

He can feel Lucifer laying next to him in that sixth-sense way, where it's like in the vibrations. He's warm. Dan's afraid. Is it better? Worse? The Devil is real and Dan crawled into bed with him and his chest feels tight but it's easier to breathe.

Why should Dan believe him—that he's not evil. That he's been  _ helping?  _ Because Malcolm is worse? Because Trixie liked him?

_ Because I have to,  _ Dan thinks. There's no one else's hand to reach out and grab in the dark.

"It's not part of the favor," Dan reminds him, when his fingers twitch in surprise.

Lucifer rolls over to face Dan, wrist twisting but not tugging out of his grip. His eyes are unnervingly bright in the dark, like they're backlit.

"That's alright," he says.

"Why LA?" Dan asks. He can feel the tension seeping out of his knuckles, like it's spreading from where they touch.

Lucifer says, "A pornstar suggested it."

"Cool," says Dan. "Do you like it here?"

"Very much."

"Why?"

"I'm… not sure," Lucifer answers quietly, like he's never thought about it before. "It should be as good as any other place, I suppose."

Dan purses his lips. "Why… Why'd you retire?"

Lucifer is staring through him. He says, "Because I'll never make my father happy."

Dan rolls onto his side and says, "Join the club," and reaches, without meaning to, without meaning any of it, to brush gingerly at the side of Lucifer's jaw.

_ I can't hate you,  _ he thinks, and,  _ Why couldn't you let me fucking hate you,  _ and says, "This isn't part of the—"

Lucifer says, "Bloody hell, I get it," and then they're kissing.

It's soft, which almost makes Dan freak out more before it doesn't. He leans away to take a breath.

"You are sobered up by now, aren't you?" Lucifer asks. "Because otherwise—"

"I'm good," Dan says. "Stop talking."

Lucifer hums and reels him back in with a hand cupping the back of his head. He nips gently at the good half of Dan's bottom lip and Dan leans into it, sliding his foot up Lucifer's bare calf.

Their hands are still linked. Dan squeezes when Lucifer pulls away again.

"Is this going to trigger some sort of crisis, sexuality or otherwise?" Lucifer asks. "Because I'd like to know in advance if I'm going to have to hold your hand through that later."

Dan huffs out a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Quite," says Lucifer.

Dan's eyes drop to Lucifer's mouth, then trace the bob of his throat. "Maybe, like, thirty percent crisis, seventy percent a lot of shit from college makes more sense now."

Lucifer smirks and says, "Manageable."

"What did you mean 'otherwise?'" Dan asks.

"Nothing in particular," Lucifer says lightly. "Just the revelation that Heaven and Hell exist and you're about to shag the former king of the latter."

"Oh," says Dan. "This  _ is  _ that crisis, but my other idea was jumping off the balcony, so."

"Right. Well, I don't recommend that option." Lucifer runs his thumb over the shell of Dan's ear. "Dad's rather judgy about that sort of thing. And by 'Dad,' I mean—"

_ "God,"  _ Dan says, slipping his hand into Lucifer's hand and tightening his grip. "Please shut the fuck up."

Lucifer purrs in the back of his throat, letting Dan pull him in. "Then make it worth my while."

Dan bites into his mouth, feeling the sting of stubble scraping against his bottom lip. It's good—really good. He focuses on the little flick of Lucifer's tongue, the feel of short hair between his fingers when he pulls Lucifer down onto his back and climbs on top of him. 

And it's all-encompassing, the way Lucifer hums and slides a hand up under Dan's shirt to stroke his spine. The twitch of his hips brushing against Dan's thigh. He's shirtless; Dan rests his free hand against his bare collarbone, where one of the bullets should be lodged.

Everything else fades away, except—

"You'd hold my hand through a crisis?" Dan asks. His forehead is pressed against Lucifer's and his breath is coming a little short.

"Of course." Lucifer drags his hand back down to cup Dan's hip. "Rather bad form not to, isn't it?"

Dan smirks, loosening his grip in Lucifer's hair. "That's pretty nice of you."

Lucifer growls, "I am  _ not  _ nice!" and flips them over, pining Dan to the mattress and—

_ "Ow,"  _ says Dan, wincing when the pain shoots up from his ribs.

"Oh, dear." Lucifer sits up and lifts Dan's shirt with gentle hands. "My apologies—where did I hurt—bloody hell, this bruise is awful. Why didn't you say something?"

Dan raises a pointed eyebrow instead of answering.

_ "What?"  _ Lucifer asks defensively, crossing his arms. "This isn't—I am not being  _ nice.  _ I'm simply—we can't very well have sex if you're in too much pain to enjoy it, which interferes with my agenda for the evening."

"Sure thing, tough guy," Dan says. "Just cool it with the manhandling and it'll be fine."

Lucifer says, "Very well," and dips down to kiss him again. He helps Dan the rest of the way out of his shirt with a light touch, fingers skimming over the bruised ribs. 

Dan hums and runs his hands up Lucifer's back in response, then freezes when he hits what feels like scar tissue. Really massive scar tissue.

He almost asks about it, but Lucifer warns, "Don't," against his neck. Dan's not sure if he means  _ 'don't say anything'  _ or  _ 'don't touch,'  _ but it doesn't matter. He's already slipping out of reach, leaving a trail of gentle bitemarks down Dan's good side.

"Oh," Dan says, watching Lucifer tug the sweatpants off his hips. Then,  _ "Oh,"  _ again when Lucifer presses an open-mouthed kiss to his dick.

"Why so surprised?" Lucifer asks, peering up at him with raised eyebrows. "You can't tell me you've never had your cock sucked before, Detective."

"I just didn't—" Dan cuts off in a moan when Lucifer sucks the head into his mouth. "Your agenda being—"

He gives up. Lucifer closes his eyes and digs his thumb into the jut of Dan's hip, the other hand sliding up the underside of his thigh. 

Dan drags his eyes down the curve of Lucifer's back; he might not have noticed the scars if he hadn't felt them first, thanks to the low light, but they're visible and gruesome even with Dan's toes curling up in pleasure.

He shouldn't stare, if only because it's kind of killing his mood, but it's just—

There's this terror in it. That Lucifer—the  _ Devil— _ could be hurt like that. That there's safety, maybe, from bullets and knives on the kitchen table, but not from having scars.

Dan reaches for them again like a hand towards a hot stove, fingers digging in at the shoulder and trailing down until they hit the marred skin, and Lucifer's teeth drag up the length of his dick with a feral rumble in the back of his throat.

"Sorry," Dan says quickly. He buries one hand in Lucifer's hair instead and fists the other in the sheets. "Sorry, I…"

Lucifer relaxes, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Dan's hip, and takes him deeper again. And it's—Dan just tilts his head head up and curls into the feeling, and doesn't think about what it means. The touching, his bloody lip, the sound Lucifer makes when Dan tightens his grip in his hair.

That Dan can do that and ask, "Is this okay?" and Lucifer can pull off and answer, "Of course. It's not like you can hurt me," and Dan can keep his hands in safe places with the word  _ liar  _ tucked under his tongue.

He doesn't think about any of it. 

Lucifer swallows when Dan comes, and licks his lips. His eyes are bright again, like he's pleased with himself, and he crawls back up Dan's body to give him a kiss.

"Fuck," Dan mumbles. He cracks his back in a contented stretch, tilting up to catch Lucifer's mouth. "That was…"

He's not sure how to finish. His afterglow feels more like exhaustion, but the good kind. Like his body is heavy because it belongs to him again. 

Lucifer hums, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Dan's mouth, and then climbs off of him to lay on his back.

"Mm, come back." Dan reaches blindly, fingers wrapping somewhere near Lucifer's elbow. "I was gonna…"

"You were what, now?" Lucifer teases.

Dan grumbles, then rolls over and ends up half-draped across Lucifer with his cheek propped up on his chest and one leg hooked around his thigh. He drags his hand down Lucifer's stomach in a slow, tempting motion.

"Ah," says Lucifer. He stills Dan's hand gently, lacing their fingers together. "Not to worry, dear. I'm a self-sufficient Devil."

Dan frowns. His mind's finally stopped racing and it's good, this feeling he's got, but he doesn't want—

"Lemme," he murmurs, shifting so he can nuzzle his nose along the underside of Lucifer's jaw. "Let me do it for you."

He feels the hesitation, everything suspended. Then Lucifer's lips brush against the top of his head so tentatively that he thinks for a second that he's fallen asleep and imagined it.

But, "Very well," Lucifer says. He smiles into Dan's hair. "You're quite bull-headed, you know. It's unbecoming."

"Dick," mutters Dan.

Lucifer huffs out a laugh and tugs Dan's hand downwards, folding his own fingers over top of Dan's when they wrap around his cock. He's uncut, which is different, and Dan toys with his foreskin for a moment with curiosity.

Then Lucifer starts to move, guiding Dan's hand to work over his dick. He keeps a firm grip and his lips pressed against Dan's temple, sighing with pleasure when Dan shifts to get a better angle.

It's quiet. In a different way than before—their voices coming in and out, the sounds of Dan cursing when he got close and Lucifer laughing with his mouth full.

Dan's afraid to break the silence now. Lucifer gets quieter and quieter as he gets close, his whole body tightening like a coil, and he's curling into Dan with every trembling inch until his whole face is buried in Dan's hair, and Dan feels like there must be something to say.

_ It's okay. I've got you. Let go. _

He thinks he'd ruin it. Lucifer would spring back again, pull away from Dan calling it what it was. So Dan keeps his eyes closed and holds his breath, and follows the pace Lucifer sets for their hands. 

Lucifer scrambles wordlessly for a handful of tissues and comes into them; so careful to avoid a mess. He practically melts into the mattress when he's finished, draping an arm over Dan's back.

Dan opens his eyes with hesitation, then props his chin up to get a look at Lucifer's face. His eyes are closed and there's no expression there, no relief or regret or lingering pleasure. 

Softly, Dan whispers, "Goodnight."

Lucifer's lips twitch with the hint of a smile. If he answers, Dan's asleep before he can hear.

~*~

Dan wakes up in an empty bed, but it's not his own bed or a musty basement, which tells him last night probably wasn't some really freaky, elaborate dream. Also, he's naked. He can hear faint singing from another room and his ribs hurt less than yesterday, which is a solid bonus at least.

_ Fuck,  _ yesterday was real. Dan scrubs both hands over his face and then rolls out of bed. He has no idea where his own fucking underwear is, but Lucifer's ridiculous black silk boxers are on the floor, so, like, whatever. He slips into those and wanders towards the sound of Lucifer's voice.

Lucifer is singing to himself while he flips an omelet in the pan with a flick of his wrist like chefs do on TV. He's wearing a robe and the same apron from last night in a different color.

Dan clears his throat and says, "Morning."

"Ah," Lucifer says, setting the pan back on the stove. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!"

Dan rolls his eyes. "What're you doing? And what time is it?"

"No idea," Lucifer answers. "I'm making breakfast like I do for all my lovers, obviously."

"Shit," says Dan. "I should go to fucking work."

Lucifer tuts, gesturing at the table without turning away from the stove. "On an empty stomach? Don't be absurd. Have a seat, Daniel."

"Look, man, I really shouldn't stay," Dan says. "I've gotta go back to my place and I already missed a day of work, and I'm sure Chloe—"

"Lucifer? Are you here?"

_ Shit. _

Lucifer turns around with a bright grin on his face. "Speak of the me!"

Dan hisses, "Don't tell her—"

"I'm in here, Detective!" Lucifer calls, waggling his eyebrows at Dan.

_ Shit shit shit. _

Dan looks around—the kitchen takes up the whole back of the place, and he'd have to bolt back towards the elevator to get to a room he could hide in, and he has no idea where she is in the penthouse.

_ "Where?"  _ Chloe shouts.

"Go talk to her out there," Dan begs. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Lucifer frowns. "But my omelet will burn—and didn't you need to talk to her, anyway? _ Detective,  _ in the  _ kitchen!" _

Chloe's footsteps echo down the hallway. "Oh my God, this place is huge!"

Dan dives behind the island, out of line of sight from the doorway. It also puts Lucifer within punching distance—which he takes advantage of immediately, socking him on the thigh.

"Ow!" Lucifer whines, looking down at him with a betrayed expression. "I'm being help—"

"I don't want my wife to know I  _ fucked  _ her  _ partner,"  _ Dan snaps in a whisper. "I'm wearing your fucking  _ underwear." _

"Ex-wife, darling."

"We're separa—"

"Wow," says Chloe. Dan clamps his mouth shut. "How have I never seen this part of your place before?"

Lucifer moves away from Dan, carefully angling himself to block more of Chloe's view. At least he got the fucking memo, even if it was at the last possible second.

"Because you still refuse to sleep with me, Detective," he says, leaning an elbow on the counter. "All my lovers enjoy a post-coital breakfast."

"Ew," Chloe says. Dan can picture her nose-wrinkle. "Don't say 'coital.'"

Lucifer tells her, "Nevermind that. How can I help you, Detective? Do we have a case?"

"Uh, not officially," she answers. "I'm actually just—and, I know this is silly, but I was just wondering—you haven't heard from Dan, have you?"

Oh, Jesus. Dan leans his head against the cabinets.

"How recently?" Lucifer asks innocently. He turns away from her to check on the omelet and shoots Dan a look.

Chloe says, "Like, since the, uh—well, you know. The other night."

The other night? What the hell does that mean?

Whatever. Dan makes a slicing motion over his throat, which Lucifer apparently ignores.

"Ah. Yes, I've seen him since then."

"Really?" Chloe asks, sounding— "How recently? Is he okay? I thought he was just avoiding me after—you know—but he still hasn't turned up and it's not like him to do that, you know?"

Lucifer slides the omelet onto a plate. "Are you worried about him, Detective?"

Chloe sighs. "I shouldn't be, right? I just—I don't know."

"He did seem in a bad spot when I ran into him," Lucifer tells her. "Perhaps there's an explanation for his recent behavior. Some trouble he's been in?"

"Wait, since when do you defend him?" Chloe asks suspiciously.

"Since I— _ gah!" _

Dan shakes his hand out from smacking Lucifer on the ankle.

"Since what?" Chloe's boots click against the floor as she moves closer. "Lucifer, are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, Detective," Lucifer says pleasantly, then glances down to shoot Dan a glare. 

_ 'Don't,'  _ Dan mouths.

Lucifer looks back up at Chloe. "And in any case, you know that I  _ don't lie,  _ so anything I say about Daniel will be  _ genuine." _

Dan hides his face in his hands.

"O-kayy, you're officially being even weirder than usu—" Chloe cuts off, but Dan can hear her gun jostling in its holster.

Great, Dan's gonna get shot.

"What are you doing, Detective?" Lucifer asks warily, taking a step back towards Dan.

"Is someone here?" she whispers. "Are you in trouble?"

"What?" Lucifer laughs, waving her off. "I'm hardly in danger—unless you decide to shoot me again."

Chloe re-holsters the gun. "But you're… you were looking at someone, I thought."

"Ah. Just a brief sidebar with my lover, who is feeling a bit shy," Lucifer says brightly, and kicks Dan in the shin.

"Oh my God,  _ Lucifer."  _ Chloe sighs exasperatedly. "Is some chick you slept with hiding behind your counter? Because you know I don't care."

Lucifer looks down at Dan again, tonguing at the inside of his cheek teasingly. "A man, actually. Perhaps part of his reluctance to  _ come out,  _ as it were?"

Dan slaps a hand over his face.

"Oh! Oh. I'm sorry—I didn't realize you were—" Chloe stumbles over her words with surprise. "I mean, I still don't  _ care,  _ but I should—I should go so he can… stop hiding?" She raises her voice slightly, like she's talking to both of them. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. Have a nice day!"

Lucifer holds up the plate in offering. "Would you like one for the road? I can make another."

"No, no, that's okay, I'll just—" she clears her throat. "I'll find you later if we catch a case. But if you see Dan again, will you tell him to stop avoiding me?"

"You have me word." Lucifer waves as she walks away. As soon as she's out of earshot, he looks down at Dan and tells him, "Stop avoiding the detective."

Dan lays down on the ground and stares at the vaulted ceilings.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Lucifer tuts, a hand on his hip. "And while I do clean them regularly, laying on my floors is a touch unbecoming, don't you think? Up with you."

He hauls Dan to his feet and then wanders over to the fridge.

"What would you like to drink?"

Dan shakes his head, bracing a hand on the counter behind himself. "No, man, I've really—I've gotta go. You heard Chloe, I need to talk to her."

"What, with no breakfast?" Lucifer asks, sounding vaguely disappointed as he points at the fucking omelet again.

"I just—" Dan presses his fingertips into his temples. "Look, I appreciate you making it for me. Can I take it to go or whatever?"

Lucifer's voice brightens again. "Certainly."

He reaches into a cabinet filled with obnoxiously well-organized Tupperware containers.

Dan braces himself for the hard part. "And, look, uh—about last night. It was…"

"Spectacular?" Lucifer suggests, plucking out a container with a matching lid. "Life-altering?"

"Definitely the second one." Dan takes a breath. "But it—I don't think it should happen again. I mean, I just need—thanks for, you know, everything. But I need to un-fuck my life, you know, with Chloe, and I don't think sex with the Devil is gonna do that."

Lucifer slides the omelet into the Tupperware, delicately folding it over itself once.

"Okay," he says, and clicks the lid into place.

Dan blinks. "O… kay?"

"Okay," Lucifer repeats. He looks up with a neutral expression. "Shall I bring your clothes to the station once they've been dry-cleaned, or would you prefer to pick them up at Lux downstairs?"

"Uh, I can guarantee whatever I was wearing wasn't dry-clean material," Dan says. He takes the plastic container automatically when Lucifer hands it over. "You're… not like upset or whatever?"

"Of course not," Lucifer says, laughing like Dan's being an idiot. "This is how these things go—I do a favor for you, you repay me, we go our separate ways. Or reverse the order in this case, but it's the same principle."

Dan looks down at the omelet, which is starting to feel more like one of those party favors that Trixie always comes home with after a birthday. 

"And the—the sex?" he asks.

"I'm  _ quite  _ familiar with the concept of a 'one night stand,' Detective Espinoza," Lucifer says. He smiles encouragingly. "Now, seriously, out with you. 'Un-fuck' your life, as it were—though you may want to borrow another set of clothes first."

"... Okay."

Dan lets Lucifer steer him out of the kitchen, back into the bedroom which is connected to a massive closet. There's an entire section dedicated to what Lucifer calls the  _ Lost and Found,  _ which Dan tries not to think too hard about as he sifts through to find something to wear out of the building.

After that, Dan's shepherded into the elevator and let out downstairs into Lux. It's closed during the day, but Maze, the fucking  _ demon bartender,  _ is wiping down a table near the staircase.

She waggles her eyebrows at him after giving him a once-over. Dan coughs awkwardly and nods, making for the door before she can whack him over the head again or some shit.

(Actually, that whole thing makes a lot more sense now that he knows she's not human. Jesus.)

But, whatever. Dan walks outside and immediately realizes he has no way of getting anywhere, unless he feels like walking for fucking miles—

Except a fucking taxi pulls up, and the driver rolls down the window to ask, "Are you 'Detective Douche?'"

Dan closes his eyes and takes a long, long breath. "Yeah, that's me."

"Mr. Morningstar sent me for you," the driver says. "Where to?"

Sure. Sure, it's fine. Dan's got no idea why Lucifer would still be helping him after Dan just took his omelet and ran, but it's not like he's got other options.

He climbs into the car and gives the address for the station; he needs to find Malcolm and get his shit back before he can do anything else. Especially his fucking wallet.

The taxi drops him off at the precinct and he heads inside warily; luckily, the desk sergeant lets him through without his badge, and no one seems that surprised to see him a little beat up.

He'll be depressed about that later. Right now, Malcolm is shoving a donut in his face at his desk. 

Dan steels himself and marches over, but Chloe grabs him by the arm before he gets there.

_ "Hey,"  _ she says, eyebrows furrowing intensely. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Uh, hey," Dan says, locking eyes with Malcolm over her shoulder. He holds up Dan's wallet with an exaggeratedly shocked expression, then brandishes Dan's fucking gun in the other hand. "I can—I can explain, but I've gotta… do something first."

"What?" Chloe asks, but she drops Dan's arm when he tugs against her grip. "What could possibly—"

Dan ignores her, rushing over to Malcolm and yanking the gun away before anyone can see it. He hisses, "What the fuck?"

"Chill out, Danny Boy," Malcolm says. He picks his donut back up and takes another bite, talking with his mouth full. "You dropped this. Don't worry, I held onto it for you. Cute picture of your kid in the wallet. How old is she, five?"

"Don't talk about my fucking kid," Dan snaps. He grabs his wallet and pockets it. "Where's my car?"

"Where you left it, buddy." Malcolm licks his fingers clean. "Yeesh, you're in a bad mood. I thought you'd be happier—I don't have to frame you for murder anymore. We're buddies again."

Dan grabs his keys when Malcolm hands them over. "We're not  _ buddies,  _ Malcolm."

"Whatever, whatever," says Malcolm. He reaches for another donut. "As long as you don't get any ideas about turning me in. I can still take you down with me. You don't want your little girl to grow up with daddy issues, do you?"

Dan hesitates. "You're not out to get Lucifer anymore?"

"Nah, I love that guy." Malcolm pats Dan on the shoulder, smearing powdered sugar all over his borrowed jacket. "A lot's changed since your little basement vacation, Dan."

"Then fine," Dan tells him. "We both keep our mouths shut. Just move on."

"That's the spirit!" Malcolm tells him cheerfully. "And, hey, I'm glad you're bouncing back, buddy."

Dan stalks away, brushing the sugar off his clothes. He needs to get his shit back together, including grabbing his car—it's probably been towed by now, which is fucking fantastic. But he should find Chloe first, so she doesn't feel brushed off.

She's sitting at her desk, frowning at a stack of paperwork. Dan clears his throat and says, "Uh, hey."

"Hey," she says without looking up. "You finish up with everything more important?"

"That's not what—" Dan hesitates. "I'm sorry, okay? Things have been really—"

"Espinoza," the lieutenant calls from her office. "In my office."

Dan scrubs a hand over his face. "Shit. I'm sorry, I'll—"

"It's fine." Chloe glances up at him. "Go."

"I'll explain later," Dan tells her, tapping a hand on her desk as he turns away. "I promise."

Chloe hums noncommittally and turns back to her work. 

Dan sighs and goes to the lieutenant's office, where he finds her sitting at her desk. 

"Uh, you wanted to see me, ma'am?" he asks, standing with his hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets.

"Yes. Detective Graham filled me in on where you were yesterday," she says, steepling her fingers on her desk.

Dan's chest tightens. "He—he did?"

The lieutenant raises an eyebrow. "The next time you decide to spend all day helping Vice on a stakeout, make sure you clear it with me first. You should know better, Detective."

Jesus Christ. The tension bleeds out of Dan's body again as he says, "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again," she tells him. "You're dismissed."

Dan coughs lightly as he turns to leave the room, then hesitates in the doorway when he sees Lucifer striding up to Chloe's desk.

He's grinning and holding two coffees, one of which he hands to Chloe when he sits on the edge of her desk and crosses his legs. She smiles at him as she takes it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

They look… happy. She flips closed the file she was working on and follows him back up the stairs—probably off to work on a case, since they're apparently such a great fucking team.

So much for getting to un-fuck his life. Dan heads back to his desk and puts his head in his hands, taking a deep breath.

It's fine. He can focus on getting caught up on his own paperwork; the routine calms him down, anyway. He can talk to Chloe when she gets back. It'll be fine.

~*~

He finally eats the omelet. It's really fucking good, even cold.

~*~

Lucifer and Chloe finally come back that evening, after Dan's basically given up on seeing them the rest of the day. Chloe heads back to her desk, but Lucifer seems like he's just having a last word with her before he heads out.

Dan catches his eye and gestures with the Tupperware container, which he cleaned out in the sink earlier. 

Lucifer nods, then stops by Dan's desk to pick it up from him on his way to the stairs. He takes it without a word, but Dan clears his throat and says, "It was, uh, really good, by the way."

Lucifer smiles at him briefly, looking self-satisfied and maybe a little bit of something else that Dan can't place.

"I know," he says, and walks away.

Dan shakes his head and looks back over at Chloe, who's still working. Her hair is falling out of her ponytail and she keeps brushing it out of her face.

Here goes nothing.

Dan walks over to her and taps a hand against the edge of her desk. "Uh, hey. Can we talk now?"

"Hm. You know," Chloe says absently, "the more I think about it, the more I think there's nothing to talk about."

Dan blinks. "Uh… what?"

Chloe looks up at him, her eyes piercing and clear. "I just realized that you're always gonna do this, you know? You  _ never  _ put me first—until I try to leave you, anyway, and then suddenly you're the best husband in the world. Then you bail on me again, and I'm always  _ so  _ surprised—"

"I didn't bail on you!" Dan insists. "I was—I had to—I was trying, Chloe, and I really wanted—"

"You  _ dumped  _ me over  _ text,"  _ Chloe snaps. "And then you just—just  _ vanish  _ for a day and a half, but apparently you have time to talk to everyone else around here."

"I needed to—"

Dan cuts off. What's he supposed to say, exactly? That he didn't dump her, Malcolm stole his phone and tried to frame him for murder, which he could only do because Dan's been covering up Palmetto for nearly a year?

Jesus Christ, he's been awful to her. And it makes him sick, but not enough to come clean. She'll hate him either way—hate him for being willing to kill for her, for being willing to lie for himself. Why go to jail over it?

"It was a mistake," he says instead. "Chloe, please believe me, it was a big fucking mistake. I never wanted to—"

"You're right," she says. She stands up, shoving her phone and keys into her purse. "It  _ was  _ a mistake. I never should have thought you could change, you know? I'll never be able to count on you."

"I want you to," he begs. "I wanna be that guy."

Chloe laughs sadly and brushes past him. She hesitates, turns around to face him again.

"Lucifer is  _ there _ for me, you know," she says, shaking her head. "You can say you hate him because he's reckless or obnoxious or whatever you want. But I think it's because you know he treats me better than you do. He doesn't just abandon me. He  _ respects  _ me."

There's nothing for him to say to that, either. Nothing that would keep her standing there.

Chloe’s heels click against the floor.

Dan presses a fist against his mouth, feeling the burst of pain radiating from his split lip, squeezing his eyes shut while she leaves him again. Maybe for the last time.

~*~

Malcolm said something about Hell, when Dan was tied up—that they use what you love against you.

All they'd have to do is put Dan in a room with Chloe Decker and wait for her to walk away. 

~*~

Lux isn't open for the evening yet when Dan gets there, but it doesn't matter. He brushes past the staff setting up the place and goes straight for the elevator and takes it to the penthouse.

There's laughter coming from the bedroom that sets Dan's teeth on edge. Lucifer is standing there with a shirtless woman who's running her fingers through his hair while they kiss.

"I need to talk to you," Dan says, bracing his hand on the doorway from the bottom of the steps.

Lucifer looks over at him with surprise. "Daniel! Can it wait, dear? As you can see, I'm a tad occupied at the moment."

"No," Dan says, ignoring the annoyed look the woman is giving him. "Now."

Lucifer furrows his eyebrows, then says, "Very well. Ah, Chandra, can you give us a moment, darling?"

The woman crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step back, and Dan walks up the steps and shoves Lucifer onto the bed.

"Good heavens!" Lucifer sits up, gaping at him. "What in the—"

Dan fists a hand in his shirt near the collar to cut him off, shaking him a little, feeling this—this  _ anger— _

(It has to be anger.)

"You couldn't just—just be  _ evil,  _ could you?" he asks, voice breaking. "Or a fucking—a serial killer or something. You had to be—to be—"

"I'm sorry, just to clarify," Lucifer says, holding up a finger and glancing between Dan's face and the hand wrinkling his shirt. "Yesterday you tried to help me because you think I'm 'kind,' and now you're cross with me because of it?"

Dan loosens his grip. "Yeah."

"Right." Lucifer asks, "Are you aware that makes no sense?"

"But it's gotta be your fault," Dan insists. He ignores the way Lucifer's face falls, how his whole body tries to shrink away without breaking Dan's hold. He has to. "Because if it's not—if I'm the one who…"

Lucifer stares at him expectantly, his eyes wide and guarded all at once, and Dan—

Cups Lucifer's cheek with his other hand, presses his thumb against the seam of his lips, feels the same panic crawling up his ribs like a ladder.

"If you're not evil, and you helped me," Dan asks slowly, throat tight, "does that mean—that you think I'm good? That I could—I could be a good person again?"

"That's a matter of faith, Detective," Lucifer answers gently. "In which I have no business dealing. But if I did…"

Dan swallows thickly, breath held.

Lucifer drops his eyes again, this time dragging them up Dan's body before meeting his gaze, and says, "I'd remind you what wasn't part of our favor."

Dan leans in without meaning to, again. Always an accident, even though he has to tilt his head to get the angle right.

(It's not anger.)

It's his own clumsy canine splitting open his throbbing lip and another man's tongue licking away the blood. The moment fingers lift off a bruise.

Dan leans Lucifer back onto the bed, crawling on top of him. His hand is still in his shirt when they kiss again. 

"I thought you were un-fucking your life," Lucifer says, but he's slipping Dan's jacket off his shoulders.

Dan starts undoing the buttons on Lucifer's shirt. "Pretty sure that's not happening, so."

"Might as well  _ be  _ fucked?" Lucifer asks, hands tickling against Dan's ribs. He remembers to avoid the bruise. 

Dan presses their foreheads together, his fingers suddenly trembling over bare skin. He keeps his eyes closed, shut so tight they hurt, and says, "Something like that."

He doesn't say,  _ You're the only one who believes in me.  _ He wouldn't know how. 

Lucifer tosses Dan's shirt somewhere off the bed, and that's when the woman—fuck, Dan just knew her name. Chandra?

That's when Chandra says, "Soo, should I, um, leave, or?"

They both look over at her. She's still standing with her arms crossed, looking somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"Ah, so sorry, darling," Lucifer tells her, his hands resting lightly on Dan's hips. "It appears I have an unexpected double-booking. I  _ do  _ still promise to help you with that favor, but perhaps we could—"

"She can stay, if you want," Dan blurts, surprising himself. And Lucifer, if the way his grip tightens means anything. "I mean, if that's—I don't wanna, like, get in the way of your… favor thing."

Lucifer raises his eyebrows at him. "Are you sure?"

"When in Rome?" Dan says. "And by Rome, I mean the Devil's penthouse?"

"Lovely." Lucifer wets his bottom lip and then lolls his head to the side to look at Chandra. "What say you, darling?"

Chandra shrugs, looking between the two of them. "I'll start with watchin'. Could be hot."

Lucifer excitedly explains, "In that case, the chair behind you is an excellent option, though you'll want to cover it with something. The leather sticks rather unpleasantly to skin, and it's a nightmare to clean. The blankets are—actually, it's easier if I show you."

At that, he slips out from under Dan and pads into the walk-in closet, gesturing enthusiastically as he keeps talking.

"Oh, and that dresser to your right has some  _ excellent  _ toys in it—all recently sterilized, of course—and condoms and lubricant for anything internal." Lucifer re-emerges with a black throw blanket, which he tucks meticulously around the lounge chair facing the bed like he's fitting a slipcover. "Personally, I recommend—why are you staring at me like that?"

"Huh?" Dan asks, fighting back a grin. "Nothing, it's just—you're kind of a huge nerd? It's cute."

Lucifer scowls at him in what Dan  _ thinks  _ is mock offense, climbing back onto the bed with a huff. "I'm only letting that one slide because you are  _ clearly  _ still in the midst of your crisis."

Dan reels him back in by his open shirt and flops back against the pillows with Lucifer on top of him. "Uh huh. Sure."

Lucifer kisses him slowly, skimming a hand up his side and murmuring, "Are you nervous?"

"Uh." Dan peeks at Chandra over Lucifer's shoulder, who's rummaging through the sex toy dresser (Jesus Christ) and gives him a thumbs up when she notices him, because what the fuck is his life? "Maybe a little."

"I could insult you a bit first," Lucifer suggests with a smirk. "That always seems to get you going."

Dan snorts and slips a hand into his hair. "Dick."

"See, like that!" Lucifer says. His hands drift down to work open Dan's jeans while he mouths at the underside of Dan's jaw. "Have you had a threesome before?"

"In college," says Dan. He flips them over, getting a thrill from the way Lucifer hums in surprise. "With my girlfriend."

Lucifer wriggles when Dan kisses at a sensitive spot on his shoulder. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Dan hesitates. "Maybe too much."

"Ah." Lucifer runs a hand up Dan's arm, his voice turning softer. "Part of that seventy percent?"

Dan smiles wryly, then dips back down to suckle at the same spot. He shouldn't be so into this conversation right now; it's probably boring for Chandra, at least. But it's… nice. He's never talked to anyone about this shit, not even Chloe.

"The other guy was my best friend," he says, and it's—he can feel his own damp breath against Lucifer's skin, and the big warm hand tracing up his spine, and it's so close to being them just holding each other. 

But they're not.

They're not, and Dan drops his hips to rock against Lucifer's dick and draw out a moan, like that's the price for what comes next.

"I was… more into it with him than her," he admits, and gasps when Lucifer tugs at his earlobe with his teeth. "I think she—I mean, she dumped me."

Lucifer's arm wraps securely around Dan's back, like a silent apology. His voice is a low rumble in Dan's ear. "And your friend?"

"No, him and me—" Dan pauses, caught off-guard by the roll of Lucifer's hips. "We stayed friends. I mean, he wanted—we were gonna get a place together, after we graduated, but I—"

Lucifer cups Dan's jaw, thumbing at his mouth. "Hm?"

Dan purses his lips and says, "I moved to LA—alone."

"And why is that?" asks Lucifer. 

Dan's throat is tight and his heart feels swollen, with the aching, and it's almost enough to forget where they are. There's over a decade of it on his tongue.

"Do you think I'm a coward?" he asks instead.

Lucifer's hips drop down to the bed. His grip tightens on Dan's jaw, but not to the point of pain. "Not particularly."

Dan breathes. His skin is old, or Lucifer's is too young, and the relief tastes wrong when he swallows it.

"You don't know me that well," he says, and undoes the buckle on Lucifer's belt.

Lucifer drops his head to the pillows and arches his back when Dan palms his dick through his boxers. "I suppose I don't. Do you want to fuck me?"

"Oh," Dan says, pausing with surprise. "I, uh—that's not what I was expecting."

"Is that a 'no?'" Lucifer asks.

"No, it's just—" Dan's distracted, thinking about it in flashes—pushing inside him, their bodies rocking together, faces buried in each other's necks. "I didn't, uh… think you'd—you'd want to?"

Lucifer looks at him with confusion. "Why not? It's splendid, really. I take it you didn't go there with your old friend?"

They didn't. Dan doesn't like remembering it—not in an ashamed way, even if there's some of that, but more that when he does, there's this sense of—

He thinks about how Andy tasted on his tongue, the piney scent of his embarrassingly cliche Axe body spray—how he'd smell it every time they hugged after, or Andy came in from a shower, and think,  _ I'll never have that again. _

Dan was too overwhelmed to realize it the first time, but he does now, with Lucifer underneath him and his dick twitching under Dan's palm. That he was wrong, that this part of him wasn't over. 

"Let's do it," he says, even though it doesn't answer the question. 

Lucifer licks his lips and says, "Wonderful. Chandra, would you mind tossing us—" he catches the bottle of lube that she chucks at him, which narrowly misses Dan's head. "Thank you, darling."

Dan looks over at Chandra while Lucifer slips the rest of the way out of his clothes; she took her bra off at some point and she's got a hand tucked under her panties. 

He turns back to Lucifer, feeling—guilty and weird, maybe, about the heat in the pit of his stomach. It's not like they didn't all agree to be here, and she can't be that shy if she's sprawled out like that and looking at  _ him  _ like—

Well. Like she's waiting for him to do something.

Lucifer leans forward, tucks the lube into Dan's curling fingers, and says, "No one will fault you for being 'too into it' here, darling. Isn't that right, Chandra?"

"Hell no," she answers. "I love watching couples."

Dan freezes in the process of squirting lube onto his hand. "Sorry," he asks, "do you think we're—"

"Detective," Lucifer cuts in, "are you planning on fucking me some time this century? Because I  _ can  _ find someone more amenable if you're having second thoughts—the beautiful woman sitting across from us, perhaps?"

"Oh my God," Dan gripes and braces his spare hand near Lucifer's shoulder. "You're so fucking demanding."

"Well, don't bring  _ Him  _ into this." Lucifer leans his head back when Dan pushes the first finger inside. "Now you're really killing the mood."

Dan rolls his eyes and crooks his finger. "How's that?"

"Better." Lucifer traces his nose against Dan's jaw. "You can add another. I'm well-practiced, you know."

"Uh, sure." Dan pulls out to add more lube, then slips two fingers back inside. He feels Lucifer sigh, tilting his face so they're pressed cheek to cheek. "You, uh—I mean, I've never… so you should just tell me, when you're ready."

Lucifer's lips brush against the corner of Dan's mouth. Dryly, he says, "How consider— _ ah,  _ stay there."

Dan does as he's told, gently rocking his fingers, smiling at the way Lucifer starts to twitch underneath him. "Here?"

"Don't be so— _ ah _ —bloody smug," Lucifer says, but his blunt nails are dragging down Dan's back and his ankle knocks into Dan's when he tries to hook it around Dan's calf. "Beginner's— _ luck." _

"Mhm." Dan crooks his fingers a little more and kisses down the side of Lucifer's neck. "Jeez, I don't even have to fuck you. Can you come like this?"

"With patience," Lucifer pants. "But where's the fun in that for you?"

Dan hums, lifting his head to make eye contact when he smirks at him. "I dunno, making you feel good?"

Lucifer's eyes flutter shut and he tilts his chin up, breathing heavily while Dan keeps his pace. His cheeks are flushed red and his throat is bobbing invitingly, hair ruffling in a dark halo against the pillowcase, and he looks—

Beautiful. Like Dan could press his lips to the right spot and he'd crumble. Finally something knowable, something solid Dan could touch.

Then Lucifer grits out, "Enough," and it's gone. "That's enough."

Dan sits up immediately, his fingers slipping out and smearing lube against Lucifer's thigh. 

"Okay." He clears his throat. "Okay, uh. Do you still want…"

"Of course. Yes, just let me—" Lucifer sits up too, combing his fingers through his hair. He glances at Dan with something guarded in his eyes, then away. 

Dan swallows. He feels like he did something wrong and has no way of knowing what, or if it's even—who fucking knows. But there's this weird tension, and he wants to break it somehow, but what could he possibly say?

"Uh, should I—" he asks awkwardly, keeping his voice low. "I mean, does the whole invincible thing cover, like, you know. S… TDs?"

Lucifer gives him a look, like,  _ 'Well, that's another absurd question.'  _

Out loud and matching Dan's volume, he says, "Yes, it does. But considering my  _ lovers  _ don't generally know that, I always—" he mimes rolling a condom on with one hand. "For their peace of mind, as it were."

"Uh, right, sure." Dan coughs lightly. "So, I should, I mean—I'll just get one."

"Are you talking about condoms?" Chandra asks, leaning forward in her chair. "'Cause it's not gonna hurt my feelings if y'all are fluid-bonded or whatever and wanna use protection with me. I know I'm the third in this thing."

Dan blinks at her. "Uh, 'fluid-bonded?'"

Chandra  _ also  _ looks at him like he's asking a stupid question. "You know, like how poly couples use condoms with other partners but not each other? You said something about 'peace of mind,' so I figured…"

"Oh, fuck me," says Dan, turning back to Lucifer. "That's what I was saying before! She thinks we're  _ dating." _

_ "What?"  _ Lucifer asks indignantly. "Why in the world would she—"

"Y'all know I can  _ hear  _ you, right?" Chandra asks. "Are you makin' fun of me?"

Dan shoves his hands through his hair. "It's your fault."

_ "Mine?  _ You're the one who keeps getting all—" Lucifer gestures with annoyance in Dan's general direction. "All  _ touchy-feely." _

Dan rolls his eyes and snarks, "Right, sure, Mr. 'It's Not a Low Bar.'"

"I've no idea why _you're_ even offended!" Lucifer says. _"Clearly_ I would be the catch in this relationship."

"Wow. Wow! Okay." Dan looks up at the ceiling and laughs. "Do you even want me to fuck you, or am I too below your league for that now?"

"Well now we've got to, to prove the point!" Lucifer insists.

Dan stares at him. "What?"

"That we're not a couple," Lucifer says. He points at Chandra, raising an eyebrow at her. "That our dear voyeur is mistaken."

Chandra narrows her eyes at him and asks, "Is this some kind of weird roleplay thing?"

Dan pinches the bridge of his nose. "You wanna prove we're not dating… by having sex?"

"Yes, Detective, keep up."

"That makes no sense," Dan tells him. "Explain to me how that fucking makes any sense."

"Because we have nothing we should be concerned about, do we?" Lucifer sits up against the pillows. "We've no  _ feelings  _ for each other—it's just  _ sex.  _ Otherwise, methinks the lady doth protest too much. Or, the douche in this case."

Okay, that actually makes some sense. And not just because it feels a little like a dare and Dan's stupid dick apparently confuses pissed off with horny when it comes to Lucifer, and  _ definitely  _ not because—

No. Nope. It's fine, he's not going there. There's no moment he wants back, no look on Lucifer's face he can still almost see.

"Fine," says Dan. "Jesus Christ."

"You really will have to break that habit," Lucifer says dryly, and rolls over onto his front, down on his forearms with his hips up. "Here, the ultimate 'hookup' position. You don't even have to see my face."

Dan sighs. "Whatever. You never answered the condom thing."

"Forgo the condom," Lucifer mutters impatiently. "Go a little heavier on the lubrication, considering how long you've kept me waiting."

"Okay, I'm not the one who—" 

Dan gives up and reaches for the lube. He slicks up his fingers and starts by pressing them back inside, just to get them both warmed up again. He's still mostly hard, maybe in kind of an embarrassing way, and it doesn't take long to work himself up when he's watching the way Lucifer's thighs tremble under his touch.

"Ready?" he asks, and takes Lucifer's snort in response as a,  _ 'Yes.' _

Dan drizzles lube over his dick and lines himself up, one hand gripping Lucifer's hip and the other guiding himself in, and,  _ fuck,  _ it's—

Amazing. The first moment is always so good, when it's the start of something, and he's tight in a way that feels a little different and makes Dan's breath catch. 

He has both hands on Lucifer's hips, but he traces one of them up his ribs. The scars are on full display like this, rippling when Dan pushes in further and Lucifer gasps. It puts this dryness in his mouth, this urge to open it with words he's not supposed to have. 

_ Did it hurt? Does it, still? Do you let Chloe touch them? _

It's pathetic. Lucifer doesn't want him to care. He picks up the pace to compensate, like singing louder in church after he finger-fucked his high school girlfriend in the back seat of his car the night before.

Lucifer mutters something into the pillows that Dan can't hear.

"What?" he asks, shifting awkwardly to try and get closer.

Lucifer turns his head to the side and repeats tersely, "I said, 'slow down.' I'm invulnerable, not your cocksleeve—"

"Sorry, I didn't hear—"

"—not without significantly more negotiation, anyway."

"—you?" Dan stops completely, blinking down at him. "Uh, is that a thing you're into?"

Lucifer tongues at the inside of his cheek. "I'm into nearly everything, darling. It's more fun that way, don't you think?"

Dan's throat is scratchy, but he's not exactly thinking— 

"Uh huh," he says, looking at the scars, flexing his fingers where they've gone numb, wondering what it'd feel like to be the one— "Just—just lay down, maybe?"

Lucifer hums agreeably and lowers onto his stomach; Dan forgets to move with him and slips out. He shakes his head, crawling forward so his body is covering Lucifer's but not touching him, and pushes gently back in.

"Is that…?" Dan asks. His face is right next to Lucifer's, now, lips brushing against his ear. "Is that better?"

"Mm." Lucifer's cheek nudges against Dan's. "Lovely. Just like that."

Dan leans into him, feeling their mouths nearly meet, hot breath coming in gasps as they rock against each other.

"Fuck," Dan whispers. He reaches down to add more lube and then resettles over him, finds Lucifer's hand clenched in the sheets and covers it with his own. "Fuck, you feel fucking amazing."

Lucifer turns his head and murmurs, "You're doing it again," into Dan's mouth.

"What?" Dan breathes, lacing their fingers together.

Lucifer traces his tongue over Dan's bottom lip. "Touchy-feely."

Dan tries to sound offended. He laughs instead, feeling the hot slide of himself, the way Lucifer moves with him. 

"You started it," he says, and leans away—just enough to prove it.

Lucifer kisses him. His body twists up into it, warm muscle pressing against Dan's chest, and a sound rumbles out of his throat that sounds more primal than a laugh.

"I most certainly— _ ah— _ did not." He nicks the cut on Dan's lip with a tooth; it feels like an accident. "You humans, so—oh, that's  _ perfect,  _ darling, exactly there."

Dan hides his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck. "Yeah?"

_ "Yes.  _ Yes, that's—" Lucifer breaks off in a moan. "You have a  _ talent  _ for fucking, don't you?"

"I…" Dan's breath comes up short. He's—it's—Lucifer won't stop  _ talking,  _ babbling about how Dan's good, he's doing a good job, Lucifer's so close, and it's obnoxious and filthy and it makes Dan feel so fucking—fucking  _ teeming  _ with something that he's the one sobbing when Lucifer comes.

"Bloody hell, you've ruined my sheets," Lucifer pants. He reaches up, clumsily cards his fingers through Dan's hair. "No, no—don't stop, darling, I want—want you to—"

Dan chokes something out that was supposed to be a word, shaking his head. He's so close, close to—he needs—

"That was  _ splendid.  _ You were splendid, darling," Lucifer tells him, rocking his hips back to meet Dan's thrusts. "You deserve a reward, don't you? I want you to come for me."

"Luce—Lucifer, I—" Dan gasps and tips over the edge, their hands still linked, curling over him and not touching where the—the wings would be, and Lucifer nuzzles at his temple until he lifts his head enough for them to kiss.

Fuck. Dan is so fucking fucked. He pulls out carefully and rolls off to the side, panting as he stares at the ceiling. 

Lucifer nudges him with an elbow and says, "Scoot over more, darling. I don't want to lay in the mess."

Dan moves over to the very edge, giving him all the room he can spare, and Lucifer still squishes right next to him with a wad of tissues held between his thighs. 

The unglamorous part of barebacking. Dan can remember Chloe doing the same thing, wrinkling up her nose and cupping a hand between her legs when she shuffled into the bathroom to pee. He always felt weirdly affectionate, watching her—like everything that happened before it was worth more if she'd do this for it.

He doesn't look at Lucifer, now. It feels like the worst thing he could do.

Lucifer's voice brightens after he leans across Dan and tosses the tissues into the trash. He scoots up the pillows and asks, "Chandra, dear, did you enjoy yourself?"

"Mhm," she says smugly. Dan won't look at her either. "Twice."

"Ooh, lovely," Lucifer purrs. "I can make it four or five, if you'd like. I'll be ready to go again in a moment."

Dan  _ does  _ look at him then, raising his eyebrows. "How the  _ hell  _ can you be—" he scrubs a hand over his face. "Nevermind, answered my own question."

Lucifer winks at him, then spreads his arms when Chandra climbs onto the bed and brackets him in.

Dan watches them kiss, watches her tuck the condom into his palm. She sinks down onto his cock with a little gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. 

Lucifer hums and rocks up into her, hands wandering from the stretch marks on her thighs up to her tits, a thumb drawing slow circles over her nipple while he murmurs at her—all composed and easy, like,  _ 'How's that, darling?'  _ and,  _ 'Yes, you feel marvelous,'  _ with a lazy smile.

And it's—she's beautiful, all full lips and big nose with bright, LA teeth—and Dan would jerk off to it if he could get hard again, and he'd fuck her as soon as he'd fuck Lucifer except for the sudden hot embarrassment lodged in his throat, because he wouldn't.

Chandra moans and sits up to ride him harder, and Lucifer chuckles delightedly and gives as good as he gets, and Dan feels sick at the thought of how easy it is. That there's nothing underneath this thing they're doing—no sense of pain or desperation being carefully unfolded between sets of teeth, no secret Dan's privy to.

It's pleasure. Sex. Dan bled into Lucifer's mouth and let a fucking stranger watch.

He rolls quietly to his feet and grabs the robe Lucifer leaves draped over the end of the headboard, rescuing his phone from his discarded jeans. He doesn't realize they're being so loud until he can still hear them from the living room.

The couch is the best place to sit, though. Dan curls up on it and turns his phone over in his hands three times before he commits to pulling up Facebook. 

Andy's profile picture is of him and another man, standing somewhere green and bright with a dog at their feet. He's got photo albums from a wedding, from two children's christenings. 

Facebook didn't exist when Dan graduated college. There's no pictures of him.

He has a bunch of photos from back then on a flashdrive, though, that he clicked through with Chloe once or twice while he told all the stories. The time Andy's grandmother hustled Dan at pool, the first legal drink Dan ever had.

(The second. Dan's first was a shot glass Andrés held to his lips, the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. No one took a picture of that.)

Dan would tell stories and smile so hard it hurt, and Chloe would laugh in all the places she was supposed to, but he could always tell she didn't get it—felt angry about that, a little, and mostly relieved. He knew it was because he wasn't telling them right.

The right way would've been:  _ My favorite color was his skin in the sun on the roof.  _ The right way would've been:  _ He called me Danny and I looked a little too long when he sang along to love songs and I used to get drunk so we could share the bottom bunk. _

Chandra moans from the bedroom, her voice pitching up at the end and overlapping with the way Lucifer laughs.

The right way would've been:  _ I don't look at pictures of anyone else. _

Dan taps on the message icon. The last time they talked was seven years ago, when Trixie was born. He hovers with his fingers over the keys for a long time before finally typing out a message.

**_Daniel Espinoza:_ ** _ Hey, bro. I know this is totally out of the blue but I was just reminiscing I guess, haha. Just wanted to say I hope you're doing good.  _

He closes his eyes, figuring that'll be the end of it, something he just gets off his chest—but his phone buzzes in his hand a few minutes later.

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ Hey, Danny!! It's good to hear from you! I'm actually doing really well and I hope you are too. Man, college feels like so long ago. How's your wife doing? _

Dan purses his lips.

**_Daniel Espinoza:_ ** _ Haha, we're actually separated, but it's all good. _

Dan hears it when Chandra starts to come; the bed's too expensive to squeak, but there's nothing stopping the headboard from hitting the wall.

**_Daniel Espinoza:_ ** _ Actually, I'm kinda seeing someone new, maybe? _

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ Oh, I'm sorry to hear! _

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ lol, the first part, obviously. _

Dan huffs out a laugh. 

**_Daniel Espinoza:_ ** _ Haha, I gotcha.  _

Jesus Christ, they sound like they're gonna break something in there. 

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ Are you good, though? _

Dan scrubs a hand over his face, trying to breathe. There's nothing to lose, right? If he's gonna say it—

But what's he supposed to say? 

**_[Daniel Espinoza, unsent]:_ ** _ We said we were gonna be the good guys, but it turns out I'm a dirty cop and I might go to jail. _

**_[Daniel Espinoza, unsent]:_ ** _ I fucked a guy for the first time since you and I'm wearing his silk robe while he makes some model-gorgeous stranger scream and I think I'm going to Hell (but don't worry, you won't.) _

**_[Daniel Espinoza, unsent]:_ ** _ I'll never love anyone like I loved you. It doesn't happen twice. _

It quiets down in the bedroom.

Lucifer was wrong: Dan's a coward.

**_Daniel Espinoza:_ ** _ Haha yeah, thanks.  _

He thinks that might be the end of it, but then the moaning starts up again. 

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ I'm glad :-) _

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ It was cool hearing from you, Danny. If you're ever back in AZ we should catch up. _

Dan rubs the corner of the robe between two fingers, trying to find something else to say. There's nothing solid to hold onto—slippery silk and sleek leather, under his thighs; Lucifer's right, it sticks to his skin, but it doesn't make him feel more stable.

**_Andrés Dávila:_ ** _ For what it's worth, I look back on what we had really fondly. I'll always kinda miss it. _

Dan presses his knuckles into his mouth until the tears springing to his eyes are from the pain in his lip. Plausible deniability. He blinks at the blurry screen of his phone, swallows until the fear stops welling in his throat and dries up into courage.

**_Daniel Espinoza:_ ** _ It was beautiful. Thank you. _

He locks his phone. Leaves it on the coffee table and scrubs at his face, then sucks in a lung-hurting breath.

They're still fucking in the bedroom; Lucifer's on top now, sucking a hickey onto Chandra's neck. Her hands are sliding up his back.

Dan whispers, "Lucifer."

All he gets in response is Lucifer turning his head, letting hot pink nails trail down his scars without so much as a flinch.

"I need a favor."

~*~

"Sorry," Lucifer says an hour later, after Dan's explained everything while Chandra showers. "You've been lying to the detective for  _ how  _ long?"

"I know, okay?" Dan snaps, running his hands through his hair. "I know it's fucked up! I feel like shit about it."

"Clearly," Lucifer says snidely. "I'm sure it's been very difficult for you to enjoy your unmarred career while the detective suffers as a social pariah."

Dan eyes are fixed over the balcony on the city spread out below them. The sun is a thin sliver over the horizon. "Why the fuck are you so pissed at me?"

"Because I detest liars and charlatans, Detective  _ Douche,"  _ Lucifer spits. "And it turns out that you are both. Playing the dutiful husband, pretending to care about the detective—to care about—"

Dan finally turns to look at him; the metal railing is twisting under his grip.

"About you?" he asks softly.

Lucifer's jaw is clenched. He flicks his eyes over, then away again, and says nothing.

"I  _ do,"  _ Dan insists, voice cracking. "Luce—Lucifer, I do care. I was—I tried to save you."

"You were saving yourself! That louse was going to frame you, wasn't he?" Lucifer lets go of the banister and leaves warped ghosts of his grip in his wake. "Don't try to feign selflessness."

Dan reaches for him, closes his fist when Lucifer flinches away. "I'm not, I—Malcolm was gonna take me down  _ with  _ him if I arrested him, but I still did it, okay?"

Lucifer scoffs and shakes his head, walking to the far side of the balcony near the hot tub.

"Lucifer," Dan pleads quietly. He follows behind, coming to stand between the tub and him. "Please, I—I thought you'd understand."

Lucifer asks cooly, "What is there to understand?"

"That I'm trying, man." Dan is watching his face, but he won't turn his head. "I want—I wanna be better. I'm so fucking tired of being like this."

Lucifer's shoulders droop marginally. His eyes are pained and a little wet when he meets Dan's gaze. "How can I trust you again when you've lied, Daniel? What makes this the truth?"

Dan's chest hurts, seeing Lucifer's expression. He forces himself to not look away and says, "You could make me, couldn't you? You could do your—your  _ thing  _ and find out what I really want."

"But…" Lucifer's eyes drop first, down to the hand Dan has curled in his own robe. "You asked me not to. You sounded… fearful."

"I am," Dan admits hoarsely. "But I don't… if that's what it takes—it's worth it."

_ You're worth it,  _ he thinks, but,  _ God,  _ it's hurt enough. He can't.

"Very well." Lucifer licks his lips, fidgeting, and then suddenly he's looking at Dan with everything bled out of his eyes like flat mirrors, and there's a burning in Dan's throat. "What do you really desire, Daniel? Why do you want my help?"

"I—" Dan tries to swallow, tries to look away, squashes the impulse because he's got to do this. It's fucking terrible. It feels like trying desperately not to vomit with the stomach acid already bubbling up and suddenly it's so much easier to— "I wanna redeem myself. I want—wanna be there for Trixie growing up and be someone she looks up to. I want Chloe to love me again. I want you—no, I—I want you to—"

Lucifer snaps away, blinking with suddenly-familiar eyes.

"That's enough," he says, like he's the one with the raw throat. He's watching traffic blur by below them. "I believe you."

Dan opens his mouth and tries twice before the question comes out. "Will you help me?"

Lucifer tilts his whole face up towards the sky, laughing harshly, then hangs his head. He taps his fingers on the banister, metal ring clinking against metal.

"One condition," he says. "Tell the detective the truth."

Dan's stomach sinks. 

"But she'll hate me," he says.

"And perhaps me, as well, for helping you," Lucifer agrees bitterly. He turns around, so he's leaning against the railing, and curls his fingers underneath through the bars. "But those are my terms. I'll help you arrest Malcolm whilst keeping yourself out of jail provided you stop lying to Chloe."

Dan asks, "But I'll still owe you? It's not—that's not the favor I'm doing for you in return."

"No, it isn't," Lucifer answers flatly. "This is the only way I'll agree to help you at all. If you tell her the truth, you can then make your deal with the Devil."

"If she doesn't arrest me herself," Dan mutters, pressing his fingers into the sensitive spot beneath his eyebrows. "Fuck."

"Occupational hazard of being a crooked cop, darling," Lucifer tells him, patting Dan's back with sudden, forced cheer. "Shall I drive?"

Dan blinks at him. "You mean, right  _ now?" _

"Well, you know very well that  _ I  _ won't lie to the detective on your behalf," Lucifer says. "If you'd prefer that we wait for her to ask for my help on the case again…"

"Jesus, I get it." Dan plucks at the borrowed robe he's wearing. "Can I at least put my own clothes on first?"

Lucifer's already wandering back into the penthouse. "Very well. I'll meet you downstairs after I speak with Chandra."

Dan follows him inside, giving the skyline one last glance.

~*~

They take Lucifer's Corvette, top down, the wind buffeting Dan's face as the drive away from the bustle of the boulevard.

"What does it feel like?" Lucifer asks.

Dan swallows uncomfortably, in answer and reaction. "It hurts."

Lucifer glances over with downturned eyes, parted lips. Says nothing. Looks away.

Dan watches the traffic melt around them.

The light turns red up ahead. Lucifer lifts his hand slowly from the steering wheel, fingers curved and tentative, and brushes his knuckles down Dan's bruised cheek—then gentles them along the side of his throat, quivering.

Dan says, "I know."

The light turns green. 

Lucifer puts both hands on the wheel and drives.

~*~

Chloe punches Dan's good cheek, at least.

He massages his jaw and says, "I deserve that."

"You  _ lied  _ to me. I don't even know you!" Chloe says, her voice wobbling dangerously. "You  _ shot  _ a man in cold blood—"

"I shot Malcolm to protect you," Dan insists.

Chloe shakes her head at him. "Everything I saw at Palmetto—it was  _ all  _ true, and you let them think I was crazy."

Dan tries, "I never intended—"

"You let  _ me  _ think I was crazy," she accuses. Dan hangs his head as she rounds on Lucifer. "And  _ you.  _ You're  _ helping  _ him?"

Lucifer says, "Detective, I  _ insisted  _ that Daniel tell you the truth immedia—"

"Oh, and now he's  _ Daniel?"  _ Chloe asks. "What happened to Detective Douche?"

"Don't take it out on him," Dan tells her. "It's my fault, okay? And I can't tell you how fucking sorry—"

"You're right, you can't." Chloe crosses her arms. "You don't  _ get  _ to be sorry."

Dan looks up at the ceiling—not like anyone up there's willing to help him out anymore, probably. "I'd take it all back if I could."

"But you can't," she says.

"I know," he says, meeting her gaze again. Fuck, this is every bit as terrible as he imagined. "I know. But we're—I'm gonna fix it."

"How, Dan?" Chloe asks bitterly. "How do you think you're gonna do that?"

Dan shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. "I'm gonna take Malcolm down for good. Whether that's on my own or by helping you."

_"Helping_ me?" Chloe repeats. "Why would I let you _help_ me when you've done nothing but—but fucking hold me back! I am totally, _completely_ alone in that place—"

"You have me," Lucifer insists.

"—besides a whackjob who tells people he's the Devil—"

"I  _ am  _ the Devil!"

"—and none of them trust me, least of all you." Chloe drags her hands down her face. "I mean, is this what you wanted?"

"I wanted you  _ alive,"  _ Dan snaps. "I wanted you  _ safe,  _ and with—with a fucking easier life than this, Chlo. Just—we could've kept our heads down, not made trouble—played the game together."

Chloe stares at him, this cold, wet thing in her eyes like cracking through a sheet of half-formed ice.

"If that's what you wanted for me," she says, "then you never understood me."

Dan thinks about the wedding neither one of them wanted to plan, the canned courthouse vows they spit out so they could go back to work. 

(He'd written his own in Spanish, the only way he could make sense of them. Things about her hair and her heart, how he loved her the way he was meant to find grace. 

Turns out neither wanted what he had to offer.)

"So what do you want me to do," he says, instead of any of that.

"Finish it," she tells him. "Make this right."

Dan swallows when he takes his next breath. "Okay. Are you—will you help us?"

"Of course I'm gonna help you," Chloe says. "We can't let Malcolm get away with this."

Lucifer says, "Right," and claps Dan on the shoulder. "Is it time for our deal, then?"

Dan side-eyes him. "Uh, yeah. Do we really have to—"

Lucifer is already holding his hand out. 

Dan sighs and takes it, shaking resolutely. "So, what favor am I gonna owe you?"

"Oh, I'm  _ sure  _ I'll think of something," Lucifer says, waggling his eyebrows. "I think half the pleasure is in the tease, don't you, darling?"

Dan shoves lightly at his chest. "Ugh."

"Hey," Chloe says. She's wiping discreetly at her eyes, standing on the far side of the kitchen island. "Are you two done being weird? 'Cause we're either going over this case again or you're leaving me to dream about shooting you in peace."

Lucifer asks Dan, "Is there a correct choice in this scenario?"

Dan just pulls up a chair.

~*~

They review everything they know about Malcolm and figure out a couple of things. First, that it can't look like Dan and Chloe are working together, or Malcolm will get suspicious.

("I can serve as the go-between," Lucifer offers. "Obviously the detective and I will be working on a variety of cases together. And Daniel and I can meet somewhere private—my penthouse, perhaps?"

He grins salaciously. Dan hides his face in his hands, but Chloe just rolls her eyes.

"I'm not sure that's less conspicuous," she says. "But whatever. It's not like I wanna spend more time with Dan right now anyway."

Lucifer says, "Ouch," on Dan's behalf, but he doesn't flinch. He deserves it.)

Secondly, the case against Malcolm needs to be totally undeniable, or no one will care.

("Kind of like you didn't," Chloe tells Dan mildly.)

And finally, they'll try to take Malcolm down for something Dan wasn't involved in so that he can't be incriminated.

(Chloe doesn't take any convincing to agree to that one, to Dan's surprise. All she says is, "There's still no guarantee."

Lucifer's arm brushes against Dan's when he reaches for his glass. "I'll address any complications that arise there.")

It's nearly eleven by the time they're talked out. Chloe sighs, checking her watch.

"I guess we'll be in touch," she tells them as she walks them to the door. 

"Uh, yeah," says Dan. He clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, can I still take Trixie this weekend?"

Chloe stares at him. "Trixie loves spending time with you. I'm not gonna punish her because  _ you _ fucked up."

Dan should apologize for implying that she would. He says, "When should I come get her?"

"She's at a sleepover tonight. I'll text you once I've picked her up, so she doesn't have to leave early." Chloe hesitates. "If that's okay with you."

Dan nods. "Uh, yeah, of course."

"Okay."

"Cool."

Lucifer claps his hands together. "Right! Well, now that  _ that  _ spot of unpleasantness is finished, shall we?"

"Sure," Dan says, and follows him out the door.

Lucifer spins his car keys around his finger and asks, "So, where to, Detective?"

"I need a fucking drink," says Dan. "Or three."

"Wonderful!" Lucifer opens Dan's door for him. "Lux it is."

Dan climbs into the passenger seat and leans his seat back, closing his eyes. 

Lucifer starts the car and pulls onto the main road, the radio turned down low. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat and blesses Dan with an entire three minutes of silence.

Then he says, "It certainly could have gone worse."

"Why the fuck are you still helping me?" Dan asks, eyes still closed.

Lucifer says, "Because I gave my word."

"Why'd you give your word?"

Lucifer scoffs impatiently. "What difference does it make?"

"Because I'm a liar!" Dan snaps, opening his eyes to blink furiously at Lucifer's unflinching face. "You  _ 'detest'  _ me. You've got some creepy soulbond with my ex-wife who I fucking betrayed, who I'm supposed to take care of, and you shouldn't wanna help me! I don't deserve it!"

Lucifer stops tapping on the steering wheel. He licks his lips restlessly and says nothing.

"I don't deserve it," Dan repeats, quieter.

Lucifer is watching the traffic blur through the intersection. A group of pedestrians crosses the street right in front of them and his eyes snap to a woman's ass in a short skirt.

Slowly, he says, "Perhaps I'm paying forward the faith that's been recently had in me."

Dan turns his head away, facing the sidewalk. "The Devil doesn't deal in faith."

"No," Lucifer agrees softly. "He doesn't."

~*~

Lucifer tosses his keys to the valet and gets waved over by Maze as soon as he walks through the door.

"It seems I may be needed down here," he tells Dan, touching at his elbow. "Go and have that drink, darling, I'll be up soon."

Dan agrees and heads to the elevator alone. He rolls his neck in slow circles on the ride up, trying to get some of the tension to bleed back out. Fuck, his whole body is aching now that he thinks about it.

Painkillers or booze? Does the Devil  _ have  _ painkillers? He had a first aid kit.

Chandra is smoking on the balcony.

Booze, then—makes him better company. Dan grabs a bottle at random and pours himself a glass, downs it, then pours another and joins her out there.

"Uh, hey," he says when she turns to wave at him off-handedly. "I didn't think you'd still be here."

Chandra tilts her head. "Sorry, am I steppin' on toes? Lucifer said I could stay while he worked on my favor."

"Oh." Dan takes a sip; he likes whatever's in this bottle better than the last one. "No, sorry—I meant more, like, I thought this afternoon  _ was  _ the favor?"

"Haha, nah." Chandra takes a drag and puffs the smoke out with a smirk. "The sex was a bonus. The favor's different."

"Gotcha."

She squints at him. "You're not gonna ask what it is?"

Dan huffs out a laugh and asks, "Do you want me to?"

"I'm in love with my best friend," she says. "Lucifer's gonna… help so she sees me the same way."

"Oh. Uh…" Dan takes another drink. "Isn't that, like—"

"Not in a creepy, love potion way!" Chandra clarifies hastily. "I made sure of that up front."

Dan laughs uncomfortably. "Okay, right. Yeah, good. So, uh—how? Then?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't need a favor, would I?" she points out.

"Okay, fair." Dan rests his forearms on the banister. "Well, uh, good luck?"

"Thanks, bro." Chandra gestures with the cigarette in offering. "You smoke?"

Dan shakes his head. "I quit."

"How come?"

"Uh, I had a kid," Dan says, "and I figured I should do less shit that could kill me."

Chandra hums and points out, "Sounds like you could use a career change, then."

Dan blinks at her. "Uh, how'd you know—"

"Coupl'a things," she says, listing them out on her fingers. "First of all, you left your badge on the floor earlier. Second of all, Lucifer _literally_ calls you 'Detective,' which I guess could just be another roleplay thing, but thirdly and most importantly, you just hardcore reek of cop, dude."

("Bro, I love you, but you can't come to the bar with us," Andy had said, ruffling Danny's hair. "They'll card us for sure. The criminal justice major really pops out.")

"No I don't," says Dan.

Chandra ignores him. "Besides, it explains why Lucifer wouldn't shut  _ up  _ about how great his job is. 'Detective' this, 'Detective' that."

Right. Dan downs half of his glass. "Actually, he was probably talking about my ex-wife."

"I thought you were separated," says Chandra.

"How would you even—" Dan lets it go, turning to face the glowing city below them. "I mean, she's probably gonna divorce me once we figure out if I'm going to jail or not, so."

Chandra snort-laughs, then widens her eyes when Dan's face doesn't change.

"Shit, buddy," she says. "You sure you don't want a drag?"

Dan gestures with his glass and a wry smile. "I'm good, but thanks."

Chandra ashes the cigarette and takes the drag herself.

"So, uh, not to be the 'where are you from?' asshole, but," Dan asks, "your accent's not local, is it?"

"What, lil ole me?" Chandra asks, batting her eyelashes and exaggerating the drawl. "I'm from South Carolina—moved here for school."

"Oh, Jesus," Dan says, leaning away on instinct. "Are you, uh—how… years?"

"Bless your heart—my  _ PhD."  _ She laughs and pats him on the arm. "You're not cradle-robbin'."

Dan flicks his eyes skyward. "Christ."

"Bonus points for not being super creepy, though," she says helpfully.

Dan finishes his drink. Would it be weird to go get another one? Probably. God, he needs another drink. Or to pass out immediately.

"So, uh—coast to coast, huh?" he asks.

Chandra shrugs. "I stayed in-state my whole life. I wanted my big queer adventure."

Dan jokes, "They didn't have PhD programs in San Fran?"

"Anywhere's queerer than my hometown," Chandra answers, mostly lightheartedly with an undercurrent of not.

Dan toasts her cigarette stub with his empty glass. "Amen."

"You're not from here, then?" she asks.

"Nah," Dan tells her. "New Mexico, then Arizona for school. I've been here, like, thirteen years, though."

"Why here?" Chandra asks, mirroring his posture. Her right wrist settles next to the indent Lucifer left this evening.

(Andrés had slipped back into their room three hours later, fumbled up the ladder, and crawled into Dan's bed smelling like sweat and pine trees and PBR.)

Dan says, "I like paying too much for rent."

Chandra reaches for another cigarette.

She's about to light it when Lucifer calls, "Darling? Are you up here?"

She grins at Dan, tucking the cigarette back into the pack, and asks, "Which one of us d'you think he's talkin' to?"

Dan rolls his eyes and shouts, "The balcony, dumbass!"

"Ah!" Lucifer appears in the doorway, bracing an arm on the wall side. "Two 'darlings' for the price of one. I've gotten the  _ damndest  _ urge to go dancing—haven't been in ages. Can I tempt you both?"

"Sounds fun," Chandra says. "Let me get my coat."

"Excellent. You know, this may help with your favor." Lucifer shifts to the side to let her pass. "Why don't you invite your friend?"

Chandra says, "Awesome," and pulls out her phone as she wanders inside. She hesitates, then turns around and gestures at Dan. "Hey, Lucifer—he  _ totally  _ looks like a cop, doesn't he?"

Lucifer looks at Dan, who's still leaning on the balcony and glaring at Chandra.

"Yes," Lucifer decides. "Absolutely."

Dan groans. "See, why do I hang out with you guys if you're just gonna make fun of me all night?"

"Because I'll buy all your drinks?" Lucifer suggests, fluttering his eyelashes in an overeager puppy routine.

Dan sighs and pushes away from the railing.

"Why not?" he says, ignoring the way Lucifer does a literal hop of delight. Ridiculous, and definitely not adorable.

"Splendid!" Lucifer slides the doors closed behind them and heads for the bedroom. "Just a quick wardrobe change for me. Oh, we'll have to take a different car—any preference?"

Dan narrows his eyes at him. "Are you not gonna drink?"

Lucifer laughs from the closet and reminds him, "Supernatural metabolism, darling. I can't get drunk."

"Uh, yeah, but—" Dan follows him into the walk-in and lowers his voice. "Does  _ Chandra _ know that? Or is she gonna think you're driving us around town with a BAC of point-one."

Lucifer makes a face that Dan can only describe as  _ bratty  _ and shrugs out of his shirt. "This is why everyone can tell you're a cop, Daniel."

Dan's distracted by the curve of Lucifer's bicep as he flicks through a row of hanging shirts. "What?"

"Goodness." Lucifer clucks his tongue exasperatedly, steering Dan out of the way with both hands to reach a shirt he's blocking. "Try not to drool, darling. At least not yet."

"Fuck off," Dan shoots back half-heartedly.

Lucifer plucks his new shirt off the coat hanger and slips into it; it's a deep red color, lighter fabric. Dan gets the obnoxious urge to touch it, which he's sure he could if he felt like enduring the teasing.

"I'll nurse my scotch like a responsible Devil if you get my black cap-toe Oxfords for me," he says, undoing the buckle on his belt.

"Uh." Dan walks over to the shoe rack, where there's a fucking absurd amount of black and brown shoes laid out in three rows. "What?"

Lucifer sighs impatiently. "The Oxfords are on the top row."

Dan says, "These are all the same shoe."

"'These are all the—'" Lucifer cuts off with an even more condescending huff. "They most certainly are  _ not.  _ Here, do I really need to give you a crash course in men's footwear? Honestly, Daniel, I'm not even from  _ Earth  _ and I know the difference between an Oxford and a Derby. Look at the facing underneath the vamp here."

Dan raises an eyebrow as Lucifer spirals off on his rant about types of laces and perforations and something about Gaelic origins, waiting to see how long it takes him before he stops for a breath.

Eventually, Lucifer looks over and glowers at Dan's face.  _ "What?" _

"Nerd," Dan gleefully informs him, and plucks the right pair off the rack.

Lucifer gapes at him. "Proper fashion is  _ not  _ nerdy! And neither is sex, I'll have you know."

He snatches the shoes from Dan and bends over to put them on, then seems to realize he's still not wearing pants. He abandons the shoes and marches over to the right section of the closet.

"It is the way you do it," Dan teases. "Were you like this when you ran Hell? Were the torture instruments, like, color coded?"

Lucifer stiffens, hands freezing halfway through doing up his zipper. 

"There was no joy in that place," he says flatly, then clears his throat. 

Dan purses his lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't," Lucifer answers quietly. He reaches over and grabs a belt, threading it through the loops methodically.

"If, uh," Dan offers stiltedly. "If you ever wanna, like, talk about it, or—"

"Hey, Dumb and Dumber," Chandra says, poking her head into the room. "You almost ready? Shreya needs to know when to call her Uber."

Lucifer clears his throat again, more brightly this time. "Certainly. Though it depends on where we're headed. Besides Lux, of course, do either of you have a favorite club?"

Dan says, "Dude, I haven't gone clubbing since before Trixie was born."

"I'm not going to dignify that absurdity with a reaction," Lucifer tells him. "Chandra, dear, the night is in your hands."

"Ooh, don't mind if I do," she says, pulling out her phone. "I'll get you the address."

"Lovely." Lucifer finally slips into his shoes and ties up the laces, then steers Dan back out of the closet with a light touch at his elbow. "Shall we?"

~*~

Lucifer drives them to the club in an absurd sports car that Dan is sure is even more expensive than the Corvette, then hands off the keys to the valet and his jacket to a coat check dude.

Dan's always been baffled by people who are so confident they'll hand over their shit to strangers and get it back. Or maybe Lucifer's just too rich to care, which—

Okay, half of the people in this place are shirtless, so Dan's not thinking about the other thing anymore.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows at Chandra in obvious delight. "Oh, my—an  _ excellent  _ choice of venue, my dear!"

Chandra shouts, "What did you say?"

Lucifer leans over across Dan to repeat himself in her ear, which means now  _ Dan  _ can't hear him. Jesus Christ, this place is so loud. He's gonna have a headache within the hour.

He taps Lucifer on the shoulder and says, "I'm too old for this place, dude."

Lucifer asks, "Why didn't you say so? I could have given you my jacket!"

Dan scrubs a hand over his face.

It doesn't matter, though, because Chandra is dragging them both onto the dance floor while Lucifer unbuttons his shirt one-handed. 

She asks him something that gets drowned out by massive cheering when the next song comes on—not that Dan can tell which one, because of all the cheering—but she's pulling his hand onto her waist, so he can figure out where that's going.

They settle back to front with Chandra kind of loosely grinding on him in that vaguely sexual-but-not way that Chloe used to do with her movie star friends when she still kept in touch with them. 

Chloe always got a little too drunk and super into it in a really embarrassing way that definitely contributed to how fucking hard Dan fell in love with her. He smiles thinking about it and rubs his thumb over the seam of Chandra's shirt.

Lucifer noses at the shell of Dan's ear and asks, "Shall I get you a drink?"

Dan tilts his head back to answer, but that brushes his lips against the corner of Lucifer's mouth and they end up kissing instead, the soft cotton of Dan's shirt sticking to Lucifer's bare chest.

Lucifer hums, shifting even closer so that they're pressed flush together. He flicks his tongue against Dan's bottom lip right as Dan pulls away.

"Anything besides tequila," Dan tells him, smirking.

_ "Tease,"  _ Lucifer answers, like he's thrilled about it. "There's a story there, I assume?"

They're still shouting over the music to be heard, even from this close. It's weird and heady, reeling Lucifer back in so Dan can talk right into his ear and save his throat, especially with Chandra's head leaning against his shoulder.

"You know how, like, the first time you ever drink way too much and you hurl for hours and have the worst hangover, and you can't even  _ smell  _ whatever you were drinking without getting sick?" Dan asks.

Lucifer makes a point of leaning away with his nose wrinkled.

"Tequila and Sprite," says Dan. "Freshmen orientation weekend."

"I'm horrified on principle." 

Lucifer's hand is sliding across the small of Dan's back, though, so clearly not that horrified.

"Andy's signature drink," Dan adds helpfully.

Lucifer nips at Dan's earlobe. "You're quite impressionable, aren't you?"

Dan makes a show of looking around the club. "How do you think I ended up here?"

Lucifer presses one last kiss to the side of Dan's face and then shifts to ask Chandra for her drink order, his hand still stabilizing on Dan's back.

Then he melts into the crowd.

Dan puts his focus back on Chandra, who seems more into, like, dancing as a concept than she's into it with him specifically, which is fine. She's good at it. Dan thinks he used to be decent, but it's been a while. 

It's just kind of weird, because they technically had sex together even though they never, like, kissed or anything, right? And it's like—he's not sure if he'd  _ want  _ to kiss her, partly because Lucifer as a fucking  _ concept _ of a person alone is taking up pretty much all of Dan's stupid brain, let alone the way his teeth felt tugging on Dan's ear, and partly because he's not sure if that's, like, what she wants from him here.

"Hey," he asks her, bending down to get within hearing distance. "Is this thing, like, weird between us?"

Chandra snorts with laughter and tells him, "Hun, I  _ know  _ you're not trying to DTR while we're dancin' in a gay club."

Dan blinks, looking around. "We're in a gay club?"

"Bless your heart," she says, and pats his hand.

So, Dan's just gonna assume it's not that weird. He kind of wants to follow up by asking if he's doing a good job with the dancing, but she's singing along to the song that's playing so he leaves her alone.

Lucifer reappears with a drink in each hand, giving Chandra what looks like a margarita and then gestures with a nearly-overflowing glass of what's probably either whiskey or scotch.

"Combined our orders for the sake of transportation," he tells Dan, taking a pointed sip. 

Then he sidles up right behind him again, free hand resting on Dan's hip, and presses the glass to Dan's lips.

Dan drinks, throat bobbing. Lucifer kisses his damp mouth with a lopsided smile.

He tastes like the burn settling in Dan's stomach. Dan wants to have a hand in his hair, specifically, can't figure out why, but he settles for fumbling for the scotch until Lucifer gives it up. The heat's kinda getting to him maybe, like—would've been smart to get something cold to drink, like Chandra did, but then would they have shared?

Lucifer rolls his hips, rocking against Dan's ass. Dan leans back into him even though it's ridiculously muggy and sweaty in here, suddenly thinking about that goddamn ridiculous shower in the penthouse and also how he forgot to eat fucking dinner again, which might explain—

"Shreya's here!" Chandra says excitedly. She pulls away from Dan and gestures towards the entrance. "Gonna go find her!"

Dan waves goodbye.

Lucifer plucks the drink out of Dan's hand and takes another sip, then presses face into Dan's neck. His arm snakes all the way around Dan's belly and tugs, plastering them together.

"Fuck," Dan breathes out, tilting his head back when Lucifer starts mouthing at his throat. "Fuck."

Lucifer murmurs something that Dan feels better than he hears—a question, maybe.

Dan could ask Lucifer the thing. Lucifer won't lie.

"Hey," he asks, trailing his fingers across Lucifer's knuckles. "Am I a good dancer?"

Lucifer huffs out a laugh, then nuzzles the side of Dan's face. "You're passable. But not to worry, darling—you've other excellent qualities."

His hand slips under Dan's shirt, thumb flicking at the waistband of Dan's boxer-briefs where it peeks out from his jeans, and then skims up Dan's stomach.

Lucifer asks, "May I?" and Dan says, "Yeah, yes," without totally knowing what he's even agreeing to, other than Lucifer. His rumbling voice, pitched lower than usual, his fucking perfect body and tight skin.

Lucifer tugs on Dan's shirt, and,  _ oh _ —he wants it off. Dan wriggles out of it even though he complains when Lucifer tosses it onto a table near the edge of the dance floor.

"I'm never gonna find that again," Dan tells him, shuddering at the sudden relief from the heat.

"I'll buy you another," Lucifer drawls. He offers Dan a drink. 

Dan takes it, breathing sharply through his nose. "What am I gonna wear out of here?"

"Take mine," Lucifer suggests. 

Lucifer's skin is even hotter against Dan's bare back, sweat sticking between them. Dan asks, "What'll you wear?"

"Does it matter?" asks Lucifer, taking the glass back into his custody. 

It doesn't. Dan kisses him again, clumsily, missing his mouth the first time and stinging his lips against his stubble. He feels it in his whole body when Lucifer chuckles.

And it's—

Wordless. No, indescribable. That's what Dan means. It's all the things and nothing, no reality breathing down his neck when Lucifer is sucking a hickey there. 

A few songs later, someone else taps Dan on the shoulder. He breaks away from Lucifer to come face to face with Chandra, who's standing with her arm casually draped around another woman—Shreya, Dan figures, when is confirmed when she introduces herself.

"Oh," Lucifer says, hooking his chin over Dan's shoulder when he leans down to shake Shreya's hand. "Lucifer Morningstar. Pleasure to meet you."

Shreya raises an eyebrow and takes his hand, clearly taking in the… all of it going on with the two of them.

Christ, Dan's half-naked and probably like a gross sweaty mess, and definitely in a less sexy way than it felt five minutes ago when he wasn't thinking about the fact that other people exist.

He tugs free of Lucifer's grip and takes the empty scotch glass with him, tilting his head to the bar.

Lucifer waves him off, already effortlessly focused on the two women and somehow not looking fucking ridiculous with his rumpled, open shirt and still-immaculate hair.

Dan squeezes between two people at the bar and ditches the empty glass. He puts himself on Lucifer's tab when the bartender gets around to him and gets a water and another whiskey, in case Lucifer wants it. At least it's marginally quieter over here.

It's weird, because he feels a lot more sober now that he's not grinding on Lucifer. Not that it's a good idea to sip on the whiskey, but Dan's not exactly the captain of stellar decisions lately, so what the hell.

"Hey," he asks the bartender, "do you guys serve food here?"

The bartender gives him a look that's a resounding,  _ 'No.' _

Whatever. Dan drinks his water and catches his breath, kind of aimlessly debating whether he could order a virgin daiquiri just for, like, the calories, until Chandra appears next to him.

"Hey," she says, waving over the bartender. "What's up?"

"Uh." Dan shrugs.

"Cool."

Dan asks, "Where's Shreya?"

"Talkin' to Lucifer," Chandra answers. "They're really hittin' it off."

She pauses to order another margarita, then tilts her head at him.

"He's not gonna steal her, is he?" she asks.

Dan rubs at the sore spot above his eyebrow. "You really overestimate how well I know the guy."

Chandra scrunches up her mouth thoughtfully. "You two really aren't together, huh?"

"Jesus," says Dan. "We've fucked, like, two times. I think I still technically  _ hate _ him a little. We're not  _ boyfriends." _

Chandra scans the dance floor for a moment before the bartender hands her her drink.

She takes a sip and leans in a little closer to pat Dan's hand. "Look, I was mostly bustin' your balls before, about you two being a couple, but—there's somethin'—it's somethin' different, with you two."

Dan snorts.

"I'm serious!" she insists. "You should see the way he looks at you."

Dan rolls his eyes, fiddling with the whiskey. "He doesn't look at me like anything. _ You  _ should see the way he looks at my ex."

Chandra takes the glass out of his hands and sets it aside. "And when's he look at her like that?"

"All the time!" Dan complains, and actually, he's not sure why he cares so fucking much but— "I mean, it's just this constant, like—she's the greatest thing ever, which she kinda is—"

_ "Dumbass,"  _ Chandra says, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He closes his mouth.  _ "When?" _

Dan blinks slowly, wishing he had the whiskey to mess with. "... When she's not looking."

Chandra takes a sip of her drink, like,  _ 'There you go,'  _ and then her whole face lights up because Shreya is waving at her and squeezing through the crowd to meet them at the bar.

Lucifer's behind her, and he grins at Dan when they lock eyes. He braces his hand next to Dan's on the bartop, half-bracketing him in.

"There you are!" he says excitedly.

"Hey." Dan hands him the whiskey. "Got this for you."

Lucifer says, "Thank you, darling," and kisses Dan on the cheek when he takes the glass from him.

Chandra raises an eyebrow at Dan in a, like,  _ super  _ judgy way.

Dan shoots her a warning look back.  _ 'Don't start.' _

"Right," says Lucifer. "More dancing?"

"Uh, sure," Dan answers, which gets him immediately hauled away from the bar by his wrist. "I do have to go home eventually, though!"

Lucifer looks back as he leads the way onto the dance floor and promises, "Say the word and I shall ferry us home."

Good enough for Dan. He settles back against Lucifer's chest and tilts his chin up for a kiss.

~*~

It doesn't occur to Dan until right before he's ready to leave. 

Lucifer is thumbing at Dan's collarbone, his arm wrapped diagonally around Dan's front, waist to shoulder, and, fuck, his dick is so hard and Dan can feel it against his ass, and Dan's gonna fucking explode if he doesn't—except—

"Hey," he says reluctantly, blinking up at Lucifer's face. "You know I meant  _ my  _ apartment, right? Like, I've gotta go  _ home  _ tonight."

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. "What? Why?"

His surprise is so genuine that Dan kind of, like, forgets his logic for a second.

"Because, it's—I mean, I haven't—" Dan tries to take a breath, which somehow makes it worse. "I mean, shit, I still haven't found my  _ car,  _ and I've gotta pick Trixie up in the morning—"

"What do you mean,  _ 'find  _ your car?'" Lucifer asks.

"Uh," says Dan. "It got towed when Malcolm kidnapped me? Did I not, like, mention, or?"

"I assumed you retrieved it when I sent you that cab," Lucifer tells him.

Dan sighs. "No, see, I had to get my wallet first, and then there was the whole—you know what? Doesn't matter. I just—I need to take care of some shit tomorrow."

"Well,  _ I  _ can help you with those things, if you'd like," Lucifer offers, which—

"Dude," Dan asks,  _ "you're  _ gonna help me pick up my kid, who you called a  _ 'sticky cretin'  _ last week, and drive me to an  _ impound lot?" _

"That is what I just said," Lucifer says impatiently, raising his voice even louder. "Have your eardrums blown out?"

Dan turns around, breaking Lucifer's hold on him, and asks exasperatedly, "Why?"

Lucifer furrows his eyebrows, seeming confused by the question, and then throws his hands up with a disarming smile.

"You know me, Detective—anything to keep the party going!" he answers, gesturing around them. 

Dan sighs. Right, anything to get laid. Not that Dan's working from, like, purer motivations or anything, considering it's day three of his life becoming what's probably a permanent crisis.

"Sure," he says. "Thanks."

Lucifer's grin stretches even wider. He reaches to pull Dan back in, but Dan stops him.

"Can we head ho—uh, back, though?" he asks. "I'm fading fast, man."

Lucifer turns the reach into a pat on Dan's bicep. "As you wish. Can you fetch Chandra and see if she and Shreya are riding with us? I'll meet you at the coat check."

Dan agrees and starts scouring for the two of them; it doesn't take long to find Chandra in a booth, where she's sipping her margarita and staring out over the dance floor with what doesn't look like a happy expression.

"Hey," Dan tells her, bracing a hand on the side of the booth. "You okay?"

Chandra tilts her head to the left, where—

Oh. Shreya is making out with some chick with an undercut and a full sleeve of tattoos.

Dan looks back at Chandra sympathetically.

"Whatever," she says, unconvincingly. "What's up?"

"We're heading back to the penthouse." Dan glances over at Shreya again. "Wanna come with?"

Chandra asks, "Y'all gonna bang?"

"If I don't pass out first," Dan tells her. "But I'm sure Luce's up for it either way."

Chandra chugs the rest of her drink and sets it down on the table a little too hard. "I'm in."

Dan politely turns away while Chandra has a brief conversation with Shreya, then follows when she gets up alone and walks towards the entrance.

It's around then that he realizes he's definitely still shirtless, which is, like, maybe a bigger issue for going outside than he let Lucifer convince him it'd be when the shirt was coming off.

By the time Dan's starting to harsh his buzz with that thought, they've made their way to coat check and found Lucifer—who's holding Dan's fucking shirt.

"What the fuck?" Dan asks, frowning down at it. "How'd you find—nevermind, I for—"

"Forgot who you were talking to?" Lucifer grins. "Yes."

Dan smirks. "Damn, and I was gonna steal yours."

Lucifer teases back, "Would you like to? We can trade, you know."

He shrugs out of his shirt before Dan can totally process what's happening, then plucks Dan's shirt back out of his hands.

Chandra rolls her eyes as Dan shrugs into the button-up. "Y'all are both idiots. You know that, right?"

Lucifer is too busy doing up Dan's buttons for him, sticking his tongue out while he hesitates over doing one last one or leaving it open.

He decides on open, then pats Dan's chest before taking a half-step back. Dan looks away to hide the blush on his face.

The valet brings the car curbside for them and Dan lets Chandra ride shotgun so he can curl up in the back in peace, drawing his legs up and leaning at an angle against the door.

"Luce," he mumbles, "don't crash."

"How  _ dare  _ you," Lucifer says, revving the engine as he pulls out into traffic. At least two cars honk at him. "I am an  _ excellent  _ driver."

Dan hums doubtfully as his eyes flutter shut and slumps further down in his seat.

"And what did you just call me?" Lucifer asks.

He sounds… Dan doesn't care. The last of the club energy is burning off and he just needs, like, a quick nap. Then sex later, when they get back. Definitely.

~*~

"Detective, wake up."

Someone pats Dan's cheek gently. He grumbles, shuffling away from the touch.

"Come on, Detective, wakey-wakey. Or I'll have to carry you, which you and I both know will be horribly embarrassing for you." A pause. "On second thought, go back to sleep. Chandra, dear, get out your camera."

Dan fumbles around with one hand until he successfully smushes it against Lucifer's face.

"Rude," says Lucifer. He grabs Dan by the wrist and presses a kiss to the side of his palm.

"Meh." Dan stretches and finally opens his eyes, cracking them open one at a time. Lucifer is smirking at him, leaning into the back seat from the curb outside Lux. The lights from the club form an uneven halo behind him, a dusty yellow-white glow.

Lucifer unbuckles Dan's seatbelt and wraps an arm around him to help him crawl out of the car; he rests his head on Lucifer's shoulder sleepily.

Another valet takes the car. Dan's too tired to be self-conscious about leaning on Lucifer as they head inside—he could probably stumble up there on his own, but why bother? 

He feels a little guilty, though, when Lucifer helps him change into comfier clothes and gently deposits him in bed.

"Sorry," Dan mutters, blinking up at Lucifer's puzzled face even as he wriggles further under the covers.

"Whatever for?" Lucifer asks, tilting his head.

"You wanted…" Dan yawns. "... Party going. I could…"

Lucifer's face is… weird. Dan feels like he's still asleep. That'd explain it.

"Yes, and you do owe me a favor, don't you?" he muses quietly, fussing with the rumpled sheets.

Dan stares at him, waiting.

Lucifer leans down and presses a kiss to Dan's forehead, and whispers, "But not now."

Dan closes his eyes and faces away.

~*~

The next time Dan wakes up, it's morning. Chandra is asleep next to him, wearing a tank top and a pair of Lucifer's boxers with the covers kicked halfway off the bed. Like last time, Lucifer's nowhere to be found.

Dan rubs his eyes and sits up carefully, trying not to disturb Chandra. His phone is charging on the nightstand, at thirty percent. Considering he didn't bring over a phone charger yesterday, that must be Lucifer's doing. He turns his phone on and swears quietly when it vibrates, pulling it off the nightstand.

It's a little after 9:30 AM. There's no text from Chloe yet, so at least Dan's not gonna be late to pick up Trixie.

_ (For once,  _ his brain supplies helpfully.)

Dan looks down at what he's wearing: the same sweatpants from before and the shirt he and Lucifer traded between themselves last night. He makes his way to the kitchen, where the deja vu of Lucifer flipping an omelet in a pan greets him.

"Uh, morning," Dan says. His throat is a little scratchy.

"Ah, I expected you to be the first awake," Lucifer tells him without turning around. "Caffeine or hair of the dog?"

"Jesus," says Dan. "Caffeine. Actually, I'm not that hungover."

Lucifer gestures to his left, where Dan realizes there's a coffee maker. "Interesting. You seemed rather intoxicated last night."

Dan shuffles over to the coffee maker, which is, like, way too fancy to be comprehensible before he's, you know, had his coffee.

"Uh." He digs his fingertips into the knot of muscle above his eyebrows. "I had, like—an amount of whiskey, I guess, but I think it was more the atmosphere."

"Technically, it was scotch," Lucifer corrects. He leans over and starts fiddling with the machine.

Dan lets him deal with that. "Same difference."

Lucifer gasps dramatically, turning away from the coffee maker to fixate his rant on Dan. "I will have you  _ know  _ that there is a specific—wait a minute, are you doing this on purpose?"

Dan cracks a grin. "Maybe."

Lucifer turns back around with a huff, his mouth clamped firmly shut as he jabs buttons on the machine.

"Hey, wait," Dan tells him, "I actually did wanna hear it."

Lucifer side-eyes him suspiciously. He reaches over to prod at the edges of the omelet, then grabs a container filled with coffee grounds off the counter.

Dan coaxes, "C'mon, it'll help me wake up."

"... Very well," Lucifer says. He measures out the coffee grounds and then starts the machine whirring. "You see, the differences are tied to geographic origins."

Dan leans back against the island and absorbs the rant, which spirals from defining the different types of whiskey to Lucifer going into detailed reviews of all his favorite bottles and subtleties in their flavors, still making Dan's (and Chandra's) breakfast the whole time.

Dan's three-quarters of the way through that breakfast before Lucifer winds down. He clears his throat and spreads his hands, saying, "Well, that's most of them in the penthouse, anyway. There are a few I haven't opened up yet."

"Mm." Dan takes another sip of his coffee. "So do you have a favorite?"

"Of course not," Lucifer answers, in a tone that basically says,  _ 'Duh.'  _ He pauses to drink his own coffee, which he enthusiastically turned into a traditional Irish coffee as a teaching point, complete with the cream carefully layered on top.

(Dan hadn't known the cream thing mattered thirty minutes ago, or even what an Irish coffee technically was, but apparently Lucifer was there  _ both  _ when it was invented the first time and when it got brought to America.)

Anyway, Lucifer drinks his Tullamore Dew-spiked coffee and explains, "It's about having the choice, isn't it? All these little differences in the flavor, the  _ nuance _ —that's what makes you humans so fascinating. I'd never limit myself to just one."

_ Are we still talking about the whiskey?  _ Dan thinks wryly, as Chandra wanders in like she's on cue.

_ "This  _ fascinatin' human needs that more than you do," she tells Lucifer, grabbing the cup out of his hands.

Dan tells her, "Uh, you know that's spiked, right?"

Chandra says, "Better fuckin' be," and gulps down half of it.

"Right," Lucifer says with amusement, tapping his hands on the table. "Shall I make you another?"

Chandra squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. "Mm, nah. That's good."

She slides it back over and Lucifer sips the rest calmly.

Dan's phone buzzes on the table.

**_Chloe (10:07 AM):_ ** _ Hey, I'm picking up Trixie now. Can you come get her in an hour? _

Dan nudges Lucifer with his foot under the table. "Hey, are you still good to help me with stuff today?"

"Of course," Lucifer says, looking over with raised eyebrows. "My word is my bond."

Dan wonders if all immortals are like this, or if Lucifer's, like, extra weird. He smiles, eyes flicking away with embarrassment. "Uh, thanks. We've gotta get Trixie in an hour, so I think we need to do that first and then get my car, if that's okay?"

"Certainly." Lucifer finishes his coffee and carries it over to the sink. "Does she require one of those special seats for particularly breakable children?"

Dan laughs. "No, dude, she's big enough to just sit in the back. How do you even know what a car seat is?"

"I watch  _ television,"  _ Lucifer tells him, offended.

"Right," Dan answers with light sarcasm. "Of course."

"Just go get ready." Lucifer waves a dismissive hand in Dan's direction while he washes out the coffee cup. "Chandra, dear, what would you like to do?"

Chandra shoves a bite of omelet into her mouth and asks, "Can I use the giant TV?"

"Certainly." Lucifer waggles his eyebrows at her. "If you purchase anything on the naughty channels, be sure to tell me if you find anything good."

"I'm probably gonna go into a HGTV fugue state, but sure thing, buddy," she says.

Dan texts Chloe back confirming the pickup time, then carries his dishes to the sink and gets nudged out of the way when he tries to wash them.

"Just go get ready, darling," Lucifer tells him. "You desperately need a shower."

"Ouch," Dan teases, "are you saying I smell?"

"Yes." Lucifer grips Dan by both biceps and walks him a few steps towards the door. "Now shoo."

Dan rolls his eyes and heads to the shower—not like he'll ever pass up an opportunity to use this ridiculous thing. He takes his time, letting the water finish waking him up, and then finishes getting ready in a rush when he realizes they're gonna be late.

Lucifer's already by the elevator, singing at the piano. It's something in a language Dan doesn't recognize, but it's still beautiful. He leans against the bar and watches with a smile on his face until Lucifer finishes the song and replaces the cover over the keys.

In the elevator, Dan asks, "What was that?"

"Oh, a melody I picked up in the early eighteen-hundreds—or maybe it was the mid," Lucifer says absently. "I've had it stuck in my head for  _ days." _

Dan laughs in disbelief. "Not sure I'm ever gonna wrap my head around that."

"What's that?" Lucifer asks.

"How much you've seen," Dan answers, gesturing expansively with one hand. "I mean, humans have done a lot of fucked up shit, haven't we? How do you not hate us?"

Lucifer tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing curiously as the elevator comes to a stop. "Because it's the price you paid."

Dan asks, "For what?"

"For the five hundred kinds of whiskey," says Lucifer. The doors slide open. "For the  _ choice." _

He strides out into the empty club, dragging his hand along the banister as he goes down the steps, and Dan thinks that'll be the end of it—except Lucifer turns back around to look at him.

"I just wish you'd stop blaming me," he says, eyes a little too wide. "I don't own the ledger. It was meant to be a gift."

Dan swallows, looking down at his face. "I know."

Lucifer's lips twitch. He turns away again, clearing his throat, and Dan follows him outside. 

"Nevermind all that," Lucifer tells him. "Let's get on the road, shall we? Any preference for the set of wheels?"

Dan hums. "Molly McDowell the ninja chemist drives a mustang."

Lucifer stares at him incredulously. "I have no idea what that means."

"Trix'll get a kick out of it," says Dan. "Do you have one?"

Lucifer grins. "What color?"

~*~

Trixie's mouth takes up half her face when her jaw drops at the sight of the car. She bolts out onto the street with her little backpack bouncing behind her and tackles Lucifer with a hug.

"Lucifer!" she says excitedly. "Your car is just like Molly McDowell's! That's  _ so cool!" _

"Er." Lucifer pries Trixie's arms off him one at a time. "Right."

Chloe locks eyes with Dan and nods her head at him, urging him over. He braces himself and walks over, ruffling Trixie's hair on the way.

"Hey," he says. "Does she have all her stuff?"

"It's packed," says Chloe. She narrows her eyes at Lucifer, who's scooting the driver seat forward so Trixie can reach the pedals. "Why are you with Lucifer? Did something happen with the case?"

"Uh, not exactly." Dan winces. There's no way to tell the whole story without, like—yeah. Not happening. But, "Uh, my car got towed when Malcolm… you know. Lucifer's taking me to get it after this," is technically the truth.

"Oh. Speaking of all that," Chloe says. She frowns, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't get to—um, are you… I mean, um—I  _ am  _ glad you're okay."

"... Thanks." Dan rubs at his ear restlessly, glancing down at the ground. "I should—we'll get out of your hair."

Chloe nods vigorously. "Mhm, right. Okay. Just—will you take her to school Monday morning?"

Dan agrees, "Sure. And you'll pick her up?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Uh, see you?"

"Mhm."

Dan coughs lightly in the back of his throat and turns away, walking back to the car where Trixie is pretending to turn the steering wheel and making race car noises.

"Okay, monkey, let's get your stuff," he says. "Can I have a hug hello?"

Trixie stands on her tiptoes on the car seat and wraps her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheek and scoops her up, spinning them around in a circle before putting her down on the ground. She darts off to grab her suitcase from Chloe.

Lucifer readjusts the seat positioning and climbs in. "Do you know the way to this… 'impound lot?'"

"Uh, I can pull it up on GPS," Dan offers, taking his phone out of his pocket. 

"That will work, thank you." 

Trixie comes back over and loads her stuff into the back, then climbs in and does up her seat belt by herself. Dan checks to make sure she's buckled up the right way and then comes around to the passenger side. 

Lucifer wiggles his fingers at Chloe in a wave as they pull away, following the directions on Dan's phone. 

"Hey, kiddo," Dan asks Trixie, "are you good if we take a little field trip to get my car?"

"Sure!" she answers. "Where is it?"

"Uh, it got towed 'cause I left it somewhere I wasn't supposed to," Dan answers, ignoring the eyebrow raise Lucifer does in his direction.

Trixie asks, "Like that time we got a  _ really  _ good parking spot at the beach, but that's because it was  _ illegal?" _

Dan laughs. "Yeah, like that."

"That's okay, Daddy," she tells him solemnly. "Mistakes happen."

God, Dan loves this kid. "Thanks, munchkin. So we'll go get my car and then we can do whatever you want today, okay?"

"Hmm, okay!" Trixie kicks her legs against Lucifer's seat. "I wanna hang out with Lucifer!"

Lucifer snorts with surprise.

Dan fights the urge to scrub a hand over his face. He clears his throat and looks out the window instead. "Uh, I'm sure Lucifer's got important stuff to do today, monkey."

"Yes, I do, actually. I need to find—" Lucifer cuts off, eyeing Trixie in the rearview mirror with sudden delight. "Although, urchin, what do you know of human romance? I'd ask your father, but he's not proven to be the most—"

_ "Dude." _

Lucifer waves him off, ending the sentence there.

Trixie hums thoughtfully. "Me and Mommy watch a lot of romcoms on TV!"

Lucifer's eyes narrow. "What's a 'romcom?'"

"It's a romantic comedy," Trixie explains. "Where two people fall in love and a bunch of stressful stuff happens but they always end up together in the end."

"That's  _ perfect!"  _ Lucifer says. "Just the source material I need. And you know all the best ones, I presume?"

Trixie says, "Yeah! I got a bunch on DVD for my birthday."

"Right. Well, that settles it—we'll pick up the car and then you'll help me do some research for a favor I'm doing," Lucifer decides. His gaze flicks over to Dan and turns mischievous. "You can join too, I suppose, Daniel."

Dan rolls his eyes. "Thanks, man."

Lucifer smiles at him unironically and fixes his eyes back on the road.

~*~

They grab Dan's car and then split off so Dan and Trixie can stop by Dan's place. He puts her in charge of picking out the movies they bring over while he grabs some other stuff she might want, like her DS and some boardgames if she gets bored watching TV. 

Then he wanders into the bathroom, turns on the tap full-blast, and locks the door. The water is icy against his knuckles; he splashes it on his face anyway. 

Dan looks at himself in the mirror, then at the toothbrush he hasn't touched in four days because he's been using the spare Lucifer gave him.

The skin around his cut is turning tight and itchy as it heals.

He's panicking, probably, somewhere he can't reach into to pull it out. It's—besides that one day at work when he was too busy worrying about things with Chloe, this is the first time he's been away from Lucifer since finding out.

And this where the running should come in, right?

It's what a sane person would do, if they finally got enough space from the Devil to make a fucking break for it. Get out, never look back.

Dan plugs the drain and submerges his face in the water and holds his breath until he feels the burn in his lungs more than the chill. 

He drains the sink, and dries his face, and stuffs a change of clothes for himself into Trixie's suitcase.

~*~

Dan's pretty sure that the TV in the penthouse used to be smaller. But that would be ridiculous, right? He's just not gonna ask.

Lucifer emerges from the kitchen when Dan and Trixie get off the elevator—he's carrying a bowl of popcorn in each hand, which seems a little excessive, but then again—

"I  _ love  _ popcorn!" says Trixie. She ditches her suitcase near the bar and hugs Lucifer again. "Thanks, Lucifer!"

Dan rolls his eyes at Chandra, who's side-eyeing them from the couch.

"Today's gonna be real weird, isn't it?" she asks.

Dan sets their other bag near the suitcase and joins her on the couch. "You remember where we are, right?"

"Fair." Chandra kicks her feet up on the coffee table. "So is Lucifer's terrible plan your fault?"

"How dare you?" Lucifer asks. He squeezes between the two of them and drapes an arm across Dan's shoulders.

"Sorry, buddy—I just don't get how you think this heteronormative bull…" Chandra hesitates, eyeing Trixie as she sits down on Dan's other side. "... _ crap _ —is gonna help me."

Lucifer holds out his hand; Trixie gives him a stack of DVDs, which he starts browsing. "Unimaginative gender pairings aside, I'm a humble enough Devil to know when I'm out of my element, and clearly that's the case when it comes to fathoming why you'd want to sleep with someone more than once—so I've called in reinforcements."

"Uh," says Dan, "hello?"

But Lucifer just looks up, mirrors Dan's confused expression, then goes back to frowning at the DVD collection.

Whatever. Dan's not gonna be more explicit about pointing out the irony with Trixie here, and it's—

It's not like he fucking cares, anyway. 

"Although, urchin, are you sure these are the best ones?" Lucifer asks skeptically. "All of these men appear  _ exceedingly  _ bland. Am I really supposed to believe these women are attracted to them?"

Trixie reaches over and pats his hand. "Trust me, these are my mom's  _ favorites. _ Let's just start watching. You'll see."

Lucifer shrugs. "Fine, you choose, then."

Trixie hops up to put a DVD in. Curiously, Dan looks over at Lucifer and asks, "So what is your type, then?"

Lucifer turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow, seeming mildly amused. "I like  _ interesting  _ people."

"Oh." Dan feels something in his stomach flutter. "... What makes  _ me  _ interesting?"

Lucifer huffs out a laugh, dragging his eyes up Dan's body. "Certainly not your fashion sense."

Right. Of course, because fuck Dan for, like, thinking they could have a nice moment, right?

He turns away, crossing his arms, and mutters, "Whatever."

Lucifer folds his hands in his lap.

Trixie sits back down and hands Lucifer the remote. She tucks herself against Dan's side, which is nice—and she's the reason he's here, anyway. He'll focus on her.

~*~

Focusing on Trixie doesn't work, because she's zeroed in on the fucking movies, and fuck the movies. They're on the tail end of the second one, and Dan's always felt like romcoms were a little stupid and cheesy or whatever, but right now it's—

It's just—maybe if his marriage wasn't literally imploding and it wasn't literally his fault, he might—

But it just  _ hurts,  _ and Dan can't fix the things he's done by standing outside Chloe's window with a fucking boombox, and no one sprinted through airport security to stop him from leaving Phoenix for the last time, and even if that shit worked he's not sure he  _ could. _

Dan's not a sprinter. He's not built for bravery, for the impulsive moments. He comes home late from being okay at his job and wakes up in time to make breakfast, and he tried to build something unexciting and steady for their family to walk on and maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad thing to be, if he'd done it right. 

If he'd meant it.

Lucifer says, "You know, I can see why the detective favors this genre now—this is delightful," and Dan's stomach curls.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Yes, quite." Lucifer looks between Dan and Chandra excitedly. "I've gotten several new ideas already!"

Dan's face feels hot. "Look, man, I don't want you to get the wrong idea—this stuff isn't gonna work."

"What're you talking about?" Lucifer asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"This isn't what real life is like," Dan tells him sharply. "I mean, it's not—love isn't about some grand gesture that you just—that makes you get happily ever after. It takes  _ work,  _ like—"

"But that's  _ boring,"  _ Lucifer cuts in flippantly, like Dan's a little fucking stupid.

"—like, I dunno, like making them breakfast, and giving them a ride even when it's out of your way," Dan continues, gesturing with frustration at Lucifer's increasingly confused expression. "And—and helping them even when they piss you off, or…"

He trails off, a lump suddenly—

"Or listening to their interests even when you've no interest yourself?" Lucifer asks, softly, with a fog of bewilderment, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Dan swallows. "Uh. I…"

"Right," says Lucifer. He clears his throat. "Well, like I said—all of that is  _ boring  _ and frankly should be done away with. This 'grand gesture' business is much more interesting."

Dan looks away. "Right, I mean, it's not like you'd—you know."

"And besides, it's of no importance to me," Lucifer agrees. "This is about  _ Chandra,  _ and you've clearly already done all those boring bits if you're friends with the object of your affection, so that won't work."

Chandra is watching the two of them with narrowed eyes. "... Right."

"Good, that's settled!" Lucifer claps his hands decisively. "Urchin, queue up the next one."

Trixie flops over dramatically and complains, "I don't wanna watch another one right now! Can we play a game instead?"

Lucifer frowns at her, then looks at Dan again. "Is she always this needy?"

Dan rolls his eyes and tickles at Trixie's foot. "What do you wanna play, monkey?"

"Hmm." Trixie kicks her foot out and sits up with a bright smile. "Did you bring Twister?"

Dan smiles back. "Why don't you go check?"

Trixie gets up and runs over to look through their bags. 

Once she's out of earshot, Dan turns to Lucifer and says, "Sorry, kid attention span. We can play a round or two and then get out of your hair."

"Nonsense," says Lucifer. "It only seems fair that we play whatever pointless game this is after your offspring helped me with her expertise."

Expertise is a strong word for happening to know some movies, but Dan doesn't get a chance to point that out before the elevator opens.

"Lucifer," Maze says, stepping into the penthouse. "We need to talk about Amen—"

"Maze!" Trixie shouts excitedly. She bolts over and tackles her into a hug. "Hi!"

Maze looks down in confusion, then awkwardly pats Trixie on the head. "Uh. Hi, little human."

Right, Maze is the one who found Trixie that time she ran away from Chloe and Penelope. And Christ, if that doesn't feel like a fucking lifetime ago even though it's been like five days.

Dan leans over and quietly asks Lucifer, "Don't be offended, 'cause I feel stupid asking, but I've gotta know—demons don't, like, eat little kid souls, do they?"

Lucifer laughs, but he matches Dan's volume when he answers, "Not that I'm aware of, but this familiarity is… perplexing. I didn't know that Mazikeen had it in her."

"Maze, do you wanna play Twister with us?" Trixie asks.

"Twister?" Maze asks. "We used to play that in Hell. You'd take human bodies and  _ twist—" _

"Oooookay!" Dan cuts in frantically, standing up with his hands raised. "Different game—different game."

Trixie grabs the game box and holds it up for Maze to see. "You put this mat on the floor and you have to put your hands and feet on the colors that someone says! You lose when you fall down."

Maze tilts her head, looking between Trixie's puppydog eyes and the game. "Sure. I'll play."

"Ah, Mazikeen," Lucifer says, holding up a finger. "Didn't you need to talk to me about something?"

"Whatever," says Maze.

Trixie's already unfolding the mat.

Lucifer sighs, then takes off his jacket and folds it neatly over the back of the couch. 

Dan tells him, "Uh, shoes off, too."

"What?" Lucifer glares at him. "Why should I do that?"

"Uh, because if you fall, I don't want anyone taking an Italian loafer to the face?" Dan answers.

"How  _ dare  _ you?" Lucifer huffs, crossing his arms. "I won't  _ fall." _

Dan just stares at him, unimpressed.

Lucifer mutters something unintelligibly petty and insulting-sounding under his breath, possibly in a language other than English or Spanish. He slips out of the shoes, though, and tucks them under the coffee table.

"Mazikeen, boots off," he says without looking. "If I have to be undignified, so do you."

Maze rolls her eyes and slips out of her shoes; Dan and Chandra do the same while Trixie flattens out the play mat and starts explaining the rules.

"Last one with all their feet and hands on the board wins," she says.

Maze and Lucifer share a look that's honestly a little scary. 

Lucifer asks, "Mazikeen, care for a little wager?"

~*~

So, yeah, this was a fucking mistake. Dan's had to outlaw biting.  _ Biting.  _ And not because of the eight-year-old. Maze and Lucifer are tied at twelve games a piece in a crazy escalating best-of-howeverthefuck many and Dan quit playing after the third time someone kneed him in the ribs.

He's on permanent spinning duty. Trixie is having the time of her life—not because she's technically still playing, but because Dan's pretty sure Maze slipped her a hundred dollar bill in exchange for sabotaging Lucifer. 

Chandra left half an hour ago, claiming she had to go home and do homework. Lucifer offered to have her stay for dinner, but considering he did so with his face jammed in Maze's tits so he could put his left foot on blue, Dan kind of gets why she declined.

"Okay, Trix, one more round and then we've gotta go home too," Dan warns her. He flicks the spinner for show and then calls out, "Right hand on green," because it looks like it'll make Lucifer have to flip over.

"What, now?" Lucifer asks over Trixie's,  _ 'Aww, Dad! _ ,' then curses under his breath when Maze's elbow nails him in the stomach. "We haven't had dinner!"

Dan watches Lucifer try to twist around, forming a spiral when he tries to fold over Maze's back. He fucking  _ sticks  _ it somehow, which—

Isn't hot. Dan says, "We've gotta go home, dude. I mean, to  _ sleep,  _ for one thing. Left foot red."

"You didn't even spin it that time!" Lucifer protests, but then Maze sweeps his leg and he has to scramble to catch his balance.  _ "Bloody  _ hell!"

Trixie, who got out five turns ago, climbs onto Lucifer's back. "That's a bad word penalty, Lucifer!"

"This would be less difficult if you weren't so  _ breakable,"  _ Lucifer mutters. "Why isn't Mazikeen subjected to these extra rules?"

Dan says, "Right foot on red."

Lucifer tries to dislodge Trixie gently, but Maze moves at the same time and he has to catch Trixie before she tumbles to the ground.

_ "Ha!"  _ Maze jeers. "You took your hands off! I win."

"This is  _ absurd!"  _ Lucifer whines, sitting up with his arms crossed. "Daniel, shouldn't I be  _ rewarded _ for preventing your offspring's head from cracking open like an egg?"

"Maybe later," Dan tells him absently. "Trixie, time to go."

Lucifer asks, "You're really not staying?"

"It's almost her bedtime," Dan says. Trixie makes a face at him; he sticks his tongue out back. "We've gotta go to bed."

"Sleep here!" Lucifer offers, a little insistently, which—

Okay, Dan did, like, literally pack himself a change of clothes, but that was more—

Like, part of the crisis, symbolically. He didn't actually expect to have a sleepover with a demon, the Devil, and his eight-year-old kid. Plus, as fun as this was, he's honestly still a little pissed about earlier.

"Where's everyone gonna sleep?" Dan asks. "The couch?"

"Or the orgy room," Lucifer suggests brightly.

Dan's glad he's not drinking anything. He coughs in surprise anyway, hissing, "The  _ what  _ did you just say?"

"The orgy room!" Lucifer repeats. "Oh, it's marvelous, have I not shown it to you? The entire floor is padded for… recreational activities, but I'm sure it would be just as comfortable for sleeping."

"Are you, like, not aware of how insane you sound?" Dan asks.

"I have the entire place steam-cleaned regularly, if that's what's concerning you," Lucifer says. He tongues at the inside of his cheek. "You'd never know what unspeakable acts we've gotten up to in there. Unless I showed you, of course."

Dan feels a blush rising to his cheeks. "Uh, that's not—I mean—"

"Daddy," Trixie asks innocently, "what's an orgy?"

Dan says, "Ask Mommy on Monday."

Lucifer wheedles, "Come on, Daniel—I'll make you dinner, hm? Perhaps another movie?"

Dan narrows his eyes at him. He's sure, suddenly, that if he asked why Lucifer wants them to stay so badly that he'd get a conveniently technically-truthful answer—probably an insult. That the honesty is somewhere else, if it's anywhere.

He can live with that—ride it out, anyway. The thing underneath all the pretense for as long as it lasts. He doesn't need Lucifer to say it; he'll show him.

"Make sure you clean anything adult out of there," Dan tells Lucifer sternly, then softens a little. "Kiddo, what do you want for dinner?"

Trixie's whole face lights up. "Are we staying?"

"Yeah," Dan says. "If you want to."

Trixie runs over and hugs him, saying, "Thanks, Daddy! This is gonna be so fun!"

Dan kisses her hair and glances up at Lucifer, who's handing Maze a stack of bills from inside his jacket pocket. He looks over when he feels Dan watching and quirks his lips.

Dan smiles back, just a little.

~*~

They end up ordering a giant pizza for dinner. Maze sticks around and makes fun of the movie they watch, which helps Dan feel way less grumpy-douche about it this time, and then she and Lucifer clean out the room while Dan and Trixie go on a scavenger hunt for as many pillows and blankets as they can find. 

The four of them pile into the room on one end; Trixie teaches Lucifer and Maze how to build a pillow fort, then insists that they should play Truth or Dare.

That's how Lucifer gets conned into letting Trixie paint his face with a unicorn and why Dan is sporting sparkly pink cat ears.

And, listen—Dan really did mean to enforce the bedtime thing when he agreed to this. He was watching the clock and everything, and he gave the ten minute warning like he's supposed to. 

But now it's just, like, Trixie looks so happy while she tricks Maze into another embarrassing and totally harmless dare, and Dan keeps getting this breath-stealing ache between his ribs when he thinks about the fact that maybe she won't want anything to do with him one day, because he's a corrupt cop or because kids grow up and he keeps meaning to call his Mom on Sundays like he used to in college, and he takes his watch off and buries it under the pillows.

Lucifer comes back into the room carrying a glass of bourbon. He sidles up right next to Dan when he sits down, taking a drink and then holding it up in offering.

Dan takes the glass and has a sip. He hands it back over and settles in a little deeper against the pillows, letting his head droop onto Lucifer's shoulder. Trixie might not be tired yet, but he is—being up late the past two nights is taking its toll.

Maze finishes walking around the room in a handstand. She flops down next to Trixie and says, "Lucifer, Truth or Dare?"

"Ach," Lucifer complains. "I've  _ just  _ sat down. Truth."

"Coward," says Maze. "Trix, pick a truth for Lucifer."

"Hmm." Trixie is laying on his stomach with her feet kicking in the air. "Ooh, I know! Lucifer, do you have a crush on anyone?"

"A  _ crush?"  _ Lucifer sits up indignantly; he dislodges Dan, who starts to grumble before Lucifer wraps an arm around him and tucks him back against his chest. "I'm the Devil—I don't get  _ crushes  _ like—like some schoolgirl!"

Dan would make fun of him, but he doesn't wanna lose his pillow again. He lets his eyes slip shut.

"Lucifer," Trixie complains, "you can't  _ lie  _ at Truth or Dare!"

"How  _ dare  _ you!" Lucifer huffs. "I  _ never  _ lie."

Trixie says, "Hm… okay, if you say so. Your turn."

"Fine." Lucifer taps his fingers on Dan's arm. "Daniel, Truth or Dare?"

Dan mutters, "No."

"No?" Lucifer asks, voice rumbling with amusement. "Is that permitted?"

"Daddy doesn't have to play anymore if he doesn't want to," Trixie says.

Dan smiles. "Thanks, monkey."

"Fine." Lucifer props his chin up on the top of Dan's head. "Truth or Dare, urchin?"

~*~

Dan wakes up to someone whispering his name. He blinks his eyes open slowly; the first thing he sees is Maze and Trixie cuddled up in the corner, Trixie drooling on Maze's shirt.

So it's Lucifer, then, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the shell of Dan's ear, who woke him up.

He wraps his arm more securely around Lucifer's middle and hums quietly.

"You accepted me," Lucifer murmurs. His cheek is nuzzled against Dan's temple. The cheap face paint is sticking, tacky and warm, to Dan's hair.

Dan mumbles, "Huh?"

Lucifer turns to press his lips to Dan's forehead. "That's what makes you interesting."

Dan lifts his head, eyes half-drooping shut again, and cups Lucifer's jaw in his hand when they kiss.

Lucifer smiles, mouth shaking and making the kiss awkward, and then slides a hand up Dan's back and into his hair. Dan leans into it and—

Feels the half-full glass of bourbon knock over when he hits it with his knee.

"Shit," he whispers, half-heartedly pulling away. "Sorry, I'll—"

"Leave it," Lucifer tells him. He reels Dan back in for another kiss, which lasts half a second before he hesitates. "Actually, on second thought—"

"Yeah, sure." Dan untangles from him and scoops the melting ice cubes back into the overturned glass while Lucifer slips out of the room.

He comes back with a handful of paper towels, navigating the dark penthouse really impressively, and sops up the spilled booze. Dan leans over to put the glass well out of limb-knocking zone, then gets tugged back into Lucifer's arms.

Dan kisses him for a few moments before he has to stifle a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Lucifer whispers.

"Sorry about your orgy room," Dan whispers back. He kisses Lucifer's cheek, which he's pretty sure gets glitter all over his mouth.

Lucifer snorts. "Far more scandalous fluids have been—"

"That was the joke," Dan says, fighting back more laughter. "Did I not—I didn't tell the joke out loud?"

"No?" Lucifer covers his mouth, giggling. "Did you inhale the paint fumes, darling?"

"Hey, idiots," Maze grumbles. "If you're gonna stay up braiding each other's hair, do it somewhere else. Before you wake up the tiny one."

She's got a point. Fuck, Dan's an idiot, isn't he? The last thing he wants is Trixie to catch him making out with Lucifer, of all fucking people. 

But Lucifer just makes a  _ tsk _ noise and helps Dan to his feet. They creep out of the room and back towards the front of the penthouse, and then Dan bursts out laughing again, because he's sneaking around the house like a teenager to avoid getting caught by his kid.

And maybe he'll feel sad about it in the morning—about the basically zero odds he'll be able to fix his marriage, and how Trixie would feel to know that. He should be sad about it now, but—

Lucifer shushes him before leaning in for a kiss, murmuring, "We've got to keep quiet—the blasted acoustics in this place are marvelous," and Dan snorts into his mouth. 

"Why are you so British?" he whispers back teasingly.

Lucifer walks himself backwards up the stairs to his bed, taking Dan with him. "Technically the accent is—oh, nevermind. I liked it."

"I like it too," Dan tells him, and he worries that maybe that's going a little too far—that there's this unspoken agreement Lucifer's etched out, of things they won't admit to each other, and Dan hasn't figured out the lines yet.

He's played that guessing game before. It ended with four years of dorm life packed into suitcases that fit on the plane.

But Lucifer says, "Thank you, darling," and sits them both down on the bed. His hands are roving over Dan's body. He woke Dan up to have this with him.

Dan kisses him, pushes him down onto the bed, pulls the covers back so they can crawl underneath them, and if he's not allowed to say what this is then he doesn't have to ask himself, either.

It's so much more, and less. Than with Andy, than three days ago. Dan's lip is almost healed and his clothes are all on and Lucifer's hand is underneath them. 

They bring each other off and clean up the mess with the tissues Lucifer keeps in a drawer in the nightstand, tidy and out of view. Dan cups Lucifer's jaw and drags a thumb across his stubble.

"We should go back in the other room," Dan tells him quietly. "Don't want Trix to wonder why we're over here."

"Right. Could we still…" Lucifer trails off, wetting his lips. His eyes are fixed on the thumb he's stroking up and down Dan's bicep.

Dan fights a losing battle against a smile. "Yeah, I don't care about that."

Lucifer squeezes Dan's arm before he gets to his feet, then goes to do up his pants again.

"Dude, are you gonna sleep in your suit?" Dan asks him. "It looks… not comfortable."

Lucifer frowns. "Well, considering I usually sleep in the nude, I don't see another option. My robes aren't exactly more decent."

Well. Dan leads Lucifer over to Trixie's suitcase, which she already opened up so she could change into pajamas after dinner, and grabs his own change of clothes out of there.

"Here," he says, holding out the T-shirt and track pants. "These should be better."

Lucifer takes the outfit with a thoughtful expression—something too subtle for Dan to read in the low light. He rubs the fabric between his thumb and index finger for a moment, then sets them on the coffee table so he can unbutton his shirt.

If he thinks it's weird that Dan brought clothes with him, he doesn't say anything. They sneak back into the orgy room (Jesus) and quietly burrow under the blankets.

Maze is asleep again, this time curled protectively around Trixie—who hasn't moved a muscle since Dan woke up, thankfully. It's a really sweet image, actually, and Dan's afraid of what Maze would do to him if he took a picture.

Lucifer primly fluffs a pillow and then lays down on his side, facing away from Dan.

Dan hesitates. He thought Lucifer wanted—didn't he? But if he's wrong…

Lucifer shifts a little restlessly, tugging at his pillow and tucking his hands underneath.

Dan holds his breath and rolls onto his side, and slips a tentative arm loosely around Lucifer's waist. He worries about the scars on his back—is it okay to touch them, through the shirt, if he's just holding him? He shuffles closer, so Lucifer's back is pressed against his chest.

"Is this…" Dan whispers haltingly. "Is this okay?"

Lucifer takes Dan's hand and tugs.

Dan breathes out, follows the pull of Lucifer's hand to wrap around him more tightly, tucks his face against the back of Lucifer's neck. He feels warm, almost to the point of discomfort. There's a lump in his throat in the shape of relief.

_ I just can't tell you,  _ Dan thinks.  _ I'll never say a word if that's what it takes. _

The room is filled with the gentle sounds of breathing. Dan sleeps.

~*~

The morning brings Trixie jumping up and down on the padded floor, chirping, "Wake up, everyone!"

So she's  _ that  _ kid at sleepovers. Dan’s always kinda wondered. 

He yawns and tries to stretch to wake himself up, but a hand grabs him by the wrist and drags him back into spooning position. Because he's still cuddling Lucifer, who's also still half-asleep.

Lucifer's  _ never  _ still asleep. How early is it?

"Bloody hell," Lucifer mutters, echoing how Dan feels. "What time is it?"

Maze says something that  _ definitely  _ isn't in a human language. 

Dan sits up a little, tugging Lucifer with him and watching Lucifer crack one eye open and rumble something guttural back—then both his eyes widen and he sits up abruptly, breaking Dan's hold.

Is Lucifer…  _ blushing? _

Dan feels embarrassed about it too, mostly vicariously. He meant it when he said he didn't care about Trixie seeing them cuddling. Like, that's a thing friends can do, and he didn't think she'll read that much into it. And he doesn't know Maze well enough to care about what she thinks, especially since she's made it pretty clear that she knows they're fucking.

But Dan clears his throat and doesn't make eye contact, and Lucifer says, "Right, urchin, are you aware of the meaning of the phrase, 'beauty sleep?'"

His voice is scratchy and pitched a little lower, either from sleepiness or whatever Hell-language he was just talking in. Dan steals another glance at his face.

Lucifer's hair is all mussed up, half-curling and flopping in his face, and he's got lines from the pillowcase on one cheek and smeared facepaint on the other. He looks like a total disaster. He's wearing Dan's shirt.

Dan's stomach flips. Fuck, this is bad.

"Nope!" Trixie answers. "Can we make waffles, Dad?"

"Uh." Dan fumbles around under the pillows until he finds his watch. Fuck, it's not even 5:30. "I'm not sure if…"

_ "Pleaseee?" _

Lucifer presses his fingertips into his eyelids. "I do have a waffle iron."

Dan resists the urge to rest a hand on Lucifer's knee. He curls it in the blankets instead, between their thighs, and says, "I can work with that."

They shuffle out of the room as a group, Trixie leading the charge. Lucifer stops in the doorway and says, "Right, I'll just go get myself sorted—meet you there."

"Oh," says Dan. "Uh, okay."

He must not hide the disappointment well enough, because Lucifer turns to look at him. "What?"

"Uh, nothing, I just—"  _ I can't tell you, _ Dan thinks. But Lucifer's staring at him expectedly and it's so hard to not, and he reaches out and touches gently at the soft cotton of Lucifer's shirt. "You're cute like this."

Lucifer's face does something complicated before settling into a pleasant mask.

"Right," he says again, his fingers twitching restlessly near his wrist, where a cufflink would be. "Pardon me."

He slips out of reach. Dan purses his lips, watching Lucifer head in the direction of the master bedroom, and then walks into the kitchen.

Maze is digging through the refrigerator, looking for God knows what, while Trixie perches on the island and kicks her feet against the bottom cabinets. 

Coffee. That's what Dan needs.

He ruffles Trixie's hair and glares at the fancy machine, trying to remember what Lucifer did to it the other day. 

A few buttons later, the machine is spewing some kind of hot foamy steamy thing everywhere and—

_ "Shit!"  _ Dan grabs Trixie and slides her down the counter, away from the spray. "Luce—"

"Bad word tax, Daddy!"

"I'll pay you later, monkey." Dan grabs a coffee cup and holds it under the jet.  _ "Lucifer!" _

Lucifer appears in the doorway, hair neatly styled and the buttons half-done on a collared shirt. He smirks playfully when he sees Dan.

"Dearie me," he tuts, coming up right behind Dan to shut the machine off. "I can't even leave you alone for five minutes, can I, darling?"

Dan just glares at him.

Lucifer shifts like he might be moving in for a kiss, then flinches back, apparently remembering where they are. He busies himself with fixing the coffee situation, nudging Dan's foam-filled cup out of the way to replace it with a fresh one.

Dan hands his mug over to Trixie, who just says,  _ "Cool!" _

Maze sets a bunch of different fruits on the counter near the stove. "Waffle toppings."

"Uh, thanks," Dan tells her.

She shrugs, then goes to sit down at the table and kicks her feet up on another chair—so apparently that's her contribution to breakfast.

Dan gets out the rest of the ingredients to make waffle batter while Lucifer sources the coffee and waffle iron. Then, Trixie and Dan make the batter while Lucifer makes eggs and sausages, because apparently he's not content to let Dan be the only one cooking.

It's… nice. It's actually really nice. Trixie's playing their 'cooking together' playlist, which is mostly Latinx pop, and Dan's  _ almost  _ not too self-conscious to sing along.

By the time breakfast is almost over, though, Dan's starting to get that over-socialized itch under his skin that tells him it's really time to go home.

"Hey, Trix," he warns her, "get ready to pack up when you're done eating, okay?"

Trixie says, "Aw, okay," without too much fighting, which tells Dan that she's probably ready for some quiet time too.

Lucifer doesn't seem to be on the same page. He looks between the two of them and asks, "What, you're leaving? There's so much we could do today."

Dan sighs, sipping the last of his coffee. "Yeah, we should really go—sorry, man."

"Well, why?" Lucifer asks.

"Uh, I mean, practically speaking, I'm out of clothes," Dan says. He rubs at his ear. "But also, I mean—I'm honestly just a little peopled-out, you know?"

"Not particularly." Lucifer frowns. "I spent eons with only Mazikeen for company, and she's not exactly the over-crowding type."

Like she's making his point, Maze leaves her plate on the table and gives Trixie a fist bump. "See you around, little human."

"Bye, Maze!" says Trixie.

Dan watches Maze saunter out, then turns back to Lucifer. He quirks his lips apologetically and says, "I'm sorry, dude. But, uh—I'll come over after work on Monday? If that's cool."

Lucifer's mouth is still downturned slightly, but he says, "Yes, of course."

Dan reaches out tentatively and squeezes Lucifer's wrist under the table. It doesn't change his expression, but he lifts his thumb to stroke it along the side of Dan's palm. 

~*~

Dan gets Trixie all packed up and takes her back to his apartment, where they spend the rest of the day watching Nickelodeon and playing video games together. It's exactly what Dan needs to recharge, which is great.

Even if sleeping alone in his bed that night is a little weird, and not just because he forgot how shitty his mattress is. 

Then Trixie's off to school the next day, and Dan drops her stuff off at Chloe's place on his way to the precinct. He has to spend the day tolerating Malcolm while they work on cases together, and trying to ignore Lucifer and Chloe.

It's easier than he expected, partly because Lucifer doesn't seem like he wants anything to do with Dan. He comes in a solid two hours after Chloe does, carrying a coffee caddy and flirting with everyone he crosses paths with like always.

He doesn't stop by Dan's desk. They lock eyes, once, because Dan's staring, and he just blinks and looks away, which—

Dan gets it, mostly. Like, they're supposed to be under cover, basically, pretending they're not working together so Malcolm doesn't catch on. But Dan just feels like there was a weird vibe when he left on Sunday, and now Lucifer won't even, like,  _ smile  _ at him?

He's probably just being paranoid. He gets through the day, packs a duffel bag, and then grabs himself some food on the way to Lux. 

Dan wishes Lucifer had a cell phone like a normal person; he'd text or call or something and ask if he wanted dinner. Instead, Dan just guesses by ordering the snobbiest-looking thing on the menu. Worst case, he's got leftovers.

Lucifer's playing the piano when Dan gets to the penthouse. He looks up with mild surprise and a warm grin.

"Detective!" he greets, finishing the song off with a flourish. "You came."

"Uh, yeah," Dan answers, holding up the paper takeout bag. "Bearing gifts. I said I would?"

"Ah, yes, well." Lucifer covers the keys and stands, reaching for a bottle of whiskey on top of the piano. "I thought you might desire more space."

Oh. Is that why Lucifer ignored him today? Dan goes to set the food down on the piano, then thinks better of it and puts it on the bartop instead.

"Uh, nope. All good, space-wise." Dan clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, I got Chinese food from that place near the station. I wasn't sure what you wanted so I kinda just… guessed. But if you don't like it, that's—"

"I'm sure I'll survive," Lucifer tells him. "But you really needn't have taken the trouble."

Dan laughs. "I don't get how me grabbing takeout on the way over is more trouble than you cooking for me all those times."

"Mm, well." Lucifer walks over and helps Dan unpack the containers. Their fingers brush and he looks up, smiling. "Do you cook as well? Besides the waffles, obviously."

Dan answers with a fork held between his teeth as they carry things over to the coffee table. "I mean, I'm no Chef Javier, but Mom taught me a bunch of recipes when I moved out."

"Ah, wonderful," says Lucifer. He waggles his eyebrows. "Perhaps that's how I'll cash in my favor."

Dan snorts, twirling lo mein on his fork. "Cooking for you? You know I'd just do that, right?"

"Yes, well, tonight's not the night, anyway," Lucifer answers off-handedly. He's using chopsticks for his dinner, making it look easy. "I know you weren't particularly fond of the romcoms, but I was planning on watching a few more before I see Chandra again. Can I persuade you to suffer with me?"

Dan jokes, "Why not call in the favor?"

"No," Lucifer answers softly. "Choose."

Dan leans away a little, the tension suddenly wobbling between them, the feeling that, paradoxically, he's just been given an order.

"Okay," he says. To the curl of Lucifer's immaculate fingers around splintering wooden chopsticks—to the careful napkins spread out over their laps. Then up, with a smile. "A little suffering it is."

Lucifer's eyes light up. He says, "Lovely," and reaches for the remote.

~*~

Dan wakes up in the empty bed. He slips into a robe and finds Lucifer in the kitchen, like always—the coffee's already made this time, though, and it's pancakes on the stove.

"Oh!" he says when Dan wraps both arms around his waist. "Good morning. I hope you're not a waffle loyalist."

Dan huffs out a laugh, then kisses the corner of his mouth. "Nah, looks great."

"Me or the pancakes?" Lucifer quips, turning in Dan's arms to kiss him full-on. He walks Dan back against the island and slides a hand up his thigh.

"Mm, both," Dan answers. He threads his fingers through Lucifer's hair. "Oh, uh—can I ask…"

Lucifer hums and moves to kiss at Dan's neck. He reaches behind himself and slides the frying pan off the burner.

"If you're not too tied up with Chandra's thing, I mean," Dan asks, "can we start working on Malcolm?"

"Oh. Of course." Lucifer leans back, smiling tightly. "Right. I'm sure you're eager to return to your life. Let's get to it."

"'Return to…?'" Dan asks, trailing off when Lucifer starts to move away entirely. "Woah, hey—I didn't mean, like, literally right now. Why don't you hop in the shower with me, maybe?"

Lucifer looks down at his outfit. "I've already showered."

"Yeah," says Dan, "but did anyone blow you during?"

The twinkle pops back into Lucifer's eyes. "You make an excellent point, darling."

~*~

"What'd you mean, 'go back to my life' or whatever?" Dan asks after, while he's hopping into the fresh pair of jeans he brought with him. The old ones are either under the bed or maybe still in the living room; he can't remember.

"Hm?" asks Lucifer. He's doing up the buttons on a different vest. 

"You said it when I brought up Malcolm," Dan reminds him. He puts on a t-shirt, grabs his hair gel, and pads back towards the bathroom.

Lucifer follows. "I meant what I said. You must be eager to return to your life, once we 'unfuck it,' as it were."

Dan hesitates in front of the mirror, watching Lucifer through the reflection. Carefully, he says, "Luce, I'm not sure that's…"

"Oh, Heavens, is this really what you've been putting in your hair?" Lucifer tuts suddenly, snatching the container out of Dan's hand. "No, no, this won't do. May I?"

Dan blinks, whiplashed. Again.

"Sure," he says. Message received.

Lucifer opens the vanity and takes out a container of something or other, which Dan doesn't get the chance to read before he's being spun around to face Lucifer again.

It looks like a mousse, maybe. Lucifer rubs some between his hands, then sticks his tongue out while he fluffs Dan's hair with his fingers. He scratches lightly at the scalp, ruffles and then smoothes, then ruffles again.

It's… weirdly intimate. Dan feels his breath catching, watching the way Lucifer's eyes flick bright and careful over his face, feeling how gentle his touch is. 

And Dan just—

Stands there, waiting, and thinks,  _ Please.  _ Please what?

He won't ask. Not even to himself. It's just a feeling, just a thumb smoothing over his eyebrow. Nothing they can't carefully look away from when Lucifer turns him to face the mirror.

~*~

His hair looks better. He thinks about it, when he ruins it with his fingers.

~*~

They do work on the case against Malcolm, and Lucifer says he's been doing the same thing with Chloe. Not much is coming of it, but Dan's been keeping an eye on Malcolm at work and it doesn't seem like he's up to anything, which is either bad or worse depending on how you look at it.

Chandra reappears on a Thursday. Dan's watching TV on the couch, waiting for Lucifer to get back from therapy—which Dan definitely thought was a joke at first, but apparently Lucifer really goes. 

"Oh my God," she says, "do you  _ live  _ here?"

"No," says Dan, who hasn't slept at his apartment in four days and is eyeing the duffel bag tucked under the bed. "Fuck off."

Chandra flops onto the couch and steals a handful of the cool ranch puffs Dan was eating. "Whatever you say, hun."

"How's your unrequited love thing going?" Dan asks.

Chandra scrunches up her face. "Your thing was meaner than mine."

Dan hands the bag over to compensate.

"She's the most beautiful and kind and perfect person in the world and I love her so  _ much," _ Chandra complains. She smushes her face into a pillow dramatically.

"Uh," Dan says helpfully. "Sorry?"

Chandra muffles her words into the pillow. "I just want her to love me  _ back." _

Dan wants to comfort her, maybe with a pat on the back or something, but he's not sure if she wants to be touched. He settles for saying, "I'm sorry," again, and then, "Maybe Luce'll figure something out soon."

Chandra sits back up again, eyes fixed on the crumpled bag in her lap. "Thanks." She stretches, then, and pats Dan on the shoulder. "Wanna get drunk?"

"I've got work tomorrow," Dan says.

"Cool," says Chandra. "Wanna get drunk?"

~*~

Lucifer walks out of the elevator somewhere around an hour later, after Dan and Chandra have tried five or six different whiskeys, Dan's actually not sure and really didn't mean for this to happen, but whatever.

"Babe!" Dan says excitedly. He ditches Chandra behind the bar and wraps his arms around Lucifer's neck. "Did you have fun at therapy?"

"Not nearly as much fun as you clearly had here," Lucifer answers with amusement. He plucks the glass Dan forgot he was still holding out of his hand. "...  _ 'Babe?'" _

Dan just laughs and tilts his chin up to kiss him.

Lucifer hums and kisses him back, reaching over to set the glass down on the counter. He slips a hand into Dan's back pocket and murmurs, "Hello, Chandra," against Dan's mouth.

"Hey, buddy," she answers. "Are you aware that all whiskey tastes the same?"

Lucifer's head snaps up in outrage. "How  _ dare  _ you?"

He moves away from Dan to grab another bottle off the shelf, gearing up for a crash course in how to taste booze properly or whatever.

Dan turns around to glare at Chandra, like,  _ 'You did that on purpose.' _

She winks at him.

Dan rests an elbow on the edge of the bar and watches the way Lucifer's hands arc through the air as he talks. There are worse views, anyway.

There ends up being a lot more whiskey involved, but Dan tries to pace himself, kind of. He's swirling a finger of it around in his glass and laughing at Chandra's latest joke when Lucifer says, "Right, shall I put on some music?"

"Ooh," Chandra tells him, "you should sing for us!"

"Oh,  _ stop  _ it, you!" Lucifer says, waving a dismissive hand at her, but he also saunters over to the piano immediately, so. "Pick your poison, darling."

Chandra shrugs and elbows Dan in the ribs. "I don't care. What do you like?"

Dan says, "Uh."

"Yes, what  _ is  _ your favorite artist, Detective?" Lucifer asks, playing scales to warm up his fingers. "I'm curious."

Dan shakes his head with a nervous grin. "You'll laugh at me."

"I  _ knew  _ it!" Chandra teases. "It's Katy Perry, ain't it?"

"Oh? A bit basic, but I can respect that." Lucifer chuckles and dives into a chord progression.  _ "'California girls, they're unforgettable, sun-kissed ski—'  _ no? Don't look so dour, darling."

Dan raises his eyebrows in amusement as Lucifer changes the melody up.

"Right, perhaps a different theme.  _ 'I kissed a boy and I liked it—'"  _ He fucking  _ winks  _ at Dan.  _ "'The taste of his cherry chapstick. I kissed a boy and I liked it—hope my ex-wife don't mind it.'  _ Gosh, that doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?"

"Jesus," Dan says, laughing despite himself. He rolls his eyes and moves around the bar to sit next to Lucifer on the piano bench. "You're a fucking dork, you know?"

Lucifer is still playing the chords to the song, but he leans over to give Dan a kiss and murmur, "Your insults are getting stale, darling."

Dan hums, slipping a hand up his arm. "It's not one."

"Seriously, though," Lucifer says, breezing over it. "Who's your favorite? No reason to keep secrets from the Devil. I've heard all the juiciest ones already."

_ "I'm  _ serious!" Dan insists, laughing anxiously. "You'll have either never heard of them or you'll make fun of me."

Lucifer stops playing. He looks at Dan with furrowed eyebrows, a hand slipping off the keys. "You've never been this bothered by my teasing before."

"Uh, debatable," Dan says, half-jokingly. "But, I dunno, this is just…"

Lucifer squeezes Dan's shoulder. "I swear to you that I won't make fun. You have my word."

Dan feels his face heating up. He looks away, avoiding eye contact with Chandra too, and mutters, "It's Dvicio."

"What, that Latin pop group your offspring was playing at breakfast?" Lucifer asks, surprise coloring his voice, but not— "Oh, they're quite good! Why did you think I'd laugh?"

"Uh, it's not, like." Dan glances over, clearing his throat. "I don't… know? I guess?"

Lucifer kisses him again, nipping at Dan's bottom lip with his teeth. His hand leaves Dan's shoulders to play the piano again, and he starts to sing.

_ "Era lo bonito del mar, cuando estás a mi lado no hay otro lugar."  _ Lucifer's breath is hot against Dan's mouth. He leans away.  _ "Y era lo bonito de ser— _ come now, love, you must at least know the chorus."

Dan snorts, stomach fluttering. "What? No, you don't want me to sing."

"Don't I?" Lucifer asks. His fingers are so beautiful against the keys, which are glossy like his smile. These perfect, timeless things. "I want to hear you."

"I suck," Dan protests, on the verge of more of that embarrassed laughter. "Like, it's  _ so  _ bad, dude."

Lucifer loops back to the verse instead of hitting the chorus. His eyes turn a little wicked when he reminds Dan, "You do still owe me a favor, you know."

Dan's breath catches. There's this tension again, something that keeps his lungs from settling, and Lucifer leans in to kiss him with the faintest brush of his lips.

"This isn't it," Lucifer whispers, smiling. Smiling, still, and wider, when he sings the chorus and Dan breathes out to sing along.

_ "'Siento que hoy te quiero más de lo normal.'"  _ Dan grins at Lucifer despite himself. He stumbles over the rhythm and he's definitely off-key, or not on one to begin with, and he's probably ruining the whole thing except—  _ "'Se hace cuesta arriba el tiempo cuando tú no estás.'" _

Lucifer just  _ looks  _ at him, and he so fucking  _ fussy  _ about having everything just-right all the time and his best version of this moment was with Dan's tongue curling over  _ 'enamórate'  _ and it hurts so goddamn fucking much that Dan forgets to do anything about it at all.

The song ends, and Chandra says, "That was beautiful. What's it about?"

And Dan clears his throat and lies, or tells the truth, "It doesn't translate well."

And Lucifer smiles, smiles, smiles with his mouth against the crease of Dan's thigh, the crook of Chandra's neck, the glass of bourbon before bed. 

~*~

Dan wakes up on the edge of being alone. 

He rolls towards the shift in the weight on the bed, finds the warm expanse of Lucifer's thigh under his hand.

"Stay," he murmurs. His eyes are closed, but he can tell the sunlight is starting to bleed through the curtains. "Luce, stay."

Silence. Sheets shifting under fists.

"Very well," says Lucifer. He entangles himself with Dan again, their foreheads nudging together.

Dan kisses him tentatively, then whispers, "Is my morning breath, like, really bad?"

"Horrid," Lucifer whispers back, and kisses the tip of his nose. "I'll never snog you again."

Dan falls back asleep laughing.

~*~

(There was this old, like, Pavlovian thing, when he first moved to LA. Where every time he woke up hungover, he'd reach for the cold side of the bed. He got used to the price, eventually.)

~*~

Dan's clothes are going missing. 

It's not as dramatic as it sounds—or it wasn't until now, when Dan's staring at his empty duffel bag, which he was planning on stuffing all the dirty clothes into today because he kind of figured, you know, eventually he'd have to go home and wash them all at the laundromat across the street from his shitty month-to-month lease apartment.

Except… the clothes aren't here. And like, if Dan had been paying attention, he definitely would've realized that sooner, because what happens every night is that they all get flung around the bedroom when him and Lucifer fuck, and then in the morning Dan puts new ones on and, like, kicks the t-shirts under the bed and checks his pants for stains, and apparently there's, just…  _ not  _ a pile of clothes under the bed.

Which. Okay. They're somewhere, right?

Dan walks into the closet, wondering if Lucifer tossed them all into a laundry hamper or something, and—

_ Oh. _

It's been rearranged.

Not, like, drastically, but, like—there used to be two separate sections for dark red shirts and bright red shirts, and now all the red shirts are shoved together in  _ one  _ section and there's some kind of alternate universe shit going on, because there's a bunch of clothes where the brights used to be that  _ look  _ like they should be his, but they're not.

Well, okay—the leather jacket is his. But there's another one next to it that's in almost the same style but black, and there's all these hoodies and t-shirts and flannels in all his favorite colors, except with fancy brand names he's never heard of and everything is so  _ soft,  _ and there's nicer stuff too—the kind of button-ups that he'd normally only wear on oh-shit-it's-laundry-day.

It's all nicer. 

Dan opens the drawers under the hanging stuff. The first one is filled with socks and underwear. The second one has all his  _ actual  _ clothes in it, washed and folded and tucked politely out of sight.

_ Subtle, dude,  _ Dan thinks. He might be a little light-headed.

"Oh, there you are," says Lucifer, poking his head into the room. "What would you like for dinner?"

Dan is still touching one of the t-shirts. He keeps thinking about how that leather jacket alone probably costs more than he could spend on clothes in a year, and how Lucifer could just buy him. He could buy Dan's life, and not even blink.

(Could  _ watch  _ Dan's life, the pathetic little century-maximum of it, and not blink.)

And somehow that's… not what this is. Dan doesn't think, anyway. It's a little mean, sure—the commentary on Dan's horrid fashion sense, like insulting his hair gel. But it's also—

The room being made. Fingers running through his hair. This idea that it means something to buy extra coat hangers and  _ oh, God, I'll never be able to say it. _

"Daniel?" Lucifer asks. He doesn't say, _ 'They're for you.' _ He doesn't ask,  _ 'Do you like them?'  _

"Could you…" Dan clears his throat. "Could you come here, please?"

Lucifer does, hovering a little, and then he cups Dan's face when Dan kisses him.

Dan leans back against the divider between two sections of closet space. His hands are stripping off Lucifer's shirt, which is dry clean-only. Are Dan's new clothes dry clean-only?

"Not that I'm complaining," Lucifer asks, "but what is this for?"

Dan laughs against his mouth. "You're such a dumbass."

Lucifer asks, "You're in a particularly amorous mood because I'm a dumbass?" 

"You know what?" Dan answers, fondly exasperated. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go with that."

"Right." Lucifer gasps quietly when Dan sucks at a sensitive spot on his throat. He hates that he can't leave marks. "I am  _ very _ much in favor, but I— _ oh.  _ I forgot to mention that the detective—she's, ah, joining us for—"

Dan bites the same spot and slips a thigh between Lucifer's legs. "What?"

"Because of the—" Lucifer cuts off, pressing his forehead to Dan's temple and rocking against him. "Bloody hell, it doesn't matter just—be quick about it."

"Not a problem," Dan teases. "Since you sound like you're gonna come in your pants."

Lucifer fucking  _ growls  _ and pushes Dan flat against the wall with his teeth sunk into the crook of his shoulder, and oh, fuck, that's so hot, Dan forgot how hot it is to piss Lucifer off.

_ "Fuck,"  _ he pants, scrambling to pull his shirt over his head while Lucifer works open his jeans. He kicks them off to the side and evens the playing field by undoing Lucifer's belt. "Fuck—Jesus."

"Hardly," Lucifer drawls. His hand is tucked under Dan's boxers while he sucks and bites at the same spot on his neck and, oh, fuck, he'll have to find a shirt that covers up the mark.

Dan slips a hand into Lucifer's hair and tugs, the other one working at shoving down his pants and underwear. "Go— _ ah.  _ The—bed?"

Lucifer steps out of the rest of his clothes and gropes at Dan's ass, plastering them against each other as he walks them back towards the bedroom, feet shuffling discarded clothes out of the way. He licks into Dan's mouth, hot breath and twitching hands when Dan pushes up into him, rocking their dicks together.

They tumble onto the bed, Dan on top. He laces their fingers together, panting, and Lucifer—

Yelps when Dan bites down hard on his bottom lip like he likes, then shoves Dan off the far side of the bed and tumbles down with him as the elevator dings.

_ "Ow."  _ Dan rubs at his elbow and looks over to snap, "What the hell was—oh, shit, you're bleeding. How are you—?"

"Lucifer?" Chloe calls. 

Dan's stomach drops. He ducks down behind the bed and whispers, "I didn't think you meant  _ that  _ quick."

Lucifer drags three fingers down his lip, frowning when they come away bloody. "I  _ didn't." _

"Lucifer?" Chloe asks again. Her boots click against the floor as she walks closer. "Are you home?"

_ Shit.  _ Dan grabs Lucifer's wrist and tugs at him. "Get in the closet!"

"I  _ live  _ here," Lucifer hisses indignantly.  _ "You  _ get in the closet!"

"To get  _ dressed,  _ dumbass!" Dan hisses back. He bolts for the door and drags Lucifer with him. 

They make it inside without Chloe seeming to notice. Lucifer scoops up their discarded clothes and chucks half at Dan, who ends up with both pairs of underwear.

He slips into Lucifer's in a panic and tosses his own back to Lucifer, who hops into them one-handed.

"Shit," Dan says, "give me my pants back."

Lucifer starts tugging his boxers off again.

"Wha— _ no, _ no, I mean—" Dan grabs a random shirt off the nearest hanger. "My  _ jeans.  _ You've got my jeans."

Dan's pants smack him in the face. He trades them for Lucifer's, which never would've made it over his thighs. Stupid sexy, lanky—

"Um. What are you guys doing?"

Fuck. Dan turns around slowly. He's holding his jeans in one hand, wearing what're  _ obviously  _ Lucifer's black silk boxers and unbuttoned dress shirt, and nothing else.

"Uh," he says. "Nothing?"

"Hello, Detective!" Lucifer says cheerfully. He dabs at his lip with a thumb and then licks the blood off. "Are you aware that being early does not, actually, count as punctual?"

"Oh my God," says Chloe, looking between them.  _ "Please  _ do not tell me that you're actually  _ sleeping  _ with this idiot."

Lucifer asks, "To whom are you referring?" at the same time Dan asks, "Who are you talking to?"

"Oh my  _ God,"  _ Chloe repeats. Her eyes are wide; she laughs a little hysterically. "Oh my God. You are, aren't you? You're fucking. You're fucking him."

"Right," Lucifer says slowly. "It's still not clear to whom—"

"My  _ husband,  _ Lucifer." Chloe laughs again. "You're fucking my  _ ex-husband." _

Dan says, "Chlo—"

"And  _ you,"  _ she says, wheeling on him. "My partner, Dan?  _ Really?" _

Dan tries, "Just let me—"

"I literally cannot talk to you when you've got a hickey the size of  _ Mars  _ on your neck," Chloe tells him. She gestures vaguely at both of them. "Just—put some actual clothes on. Please."

She turns on her heels and walks out; Dan's not sure to where. He puts his face in his hands, breathing slowly.

"... Do you want a different shirt?" Lucifer asks.

"Kill me," says Dan.

"Angels can't kill humans," Lucifer answers. "Bit of a downer, really."

Dan puts his jeans back on. 

Lucifer dresses in silence, aside from the clack of his belt buckle. He reaches, tentatively, for Dan's arm, fingers brushing against his bicep.

Dan turns and tucks his face into the side of Lucifer's neck, inhaling shakily. He steadies when Lucifer's fingers card through his hair.

"Are you okay?" Dan asks.

"Me?" Lucifer clarifies, surprised.

"You're…" Dan curls his hands in the back of Lucifer's shirt. "I didn't think you could bleed."

"Oh, yes—that." Lucifer kisses gently at the shell of Dan's ear. "I think it's best if I explain later."

Dan nods. He takes two more breaths, slowing his pulse, and then pulls away. 

Lucifer clears his throat and does up the rest of the buttons on Dan's shirt for him; it's a little tight, but at least it hides the bruise.

"Okay," he says finally. "Let's…"

"Yes," Lucifer agrees. He fiddles with a cufflink for a moment and then strides back into the bedroom. The sheets are in disarray on the bed; he straightens them out almost compulsively, tucking the comforter back into place. 

Dan waits, for a minute, until he realizes that Lucifer doesn't want to follow him. He heads down the steps on his own and finds Chloe out on the balcony.

She's tapping her fingers on the contorted wrought iron where Lucifer bent the railing; she stares at it, blue eyes bright and curious, and doesn't look up when Dan comes to stand next to her.

If she was any less stubborn, Dan's sure she would've figured it out by now. He loves it about her—the conviction. The certainty that there's a right way for things to be, and the courage to sort them out herself when they aren't. Even when it's pointed against him.

Dan rests his forearms on the railing. He tells her, "I'm sorry."

Chloe wipes at a tear welling in the corner of her eye. "I don't know how I became the kind of person you feel like you have to lie to."

"What?" Dan swallows thickly. "Chloe, I don't—"

"Palmetto, and now this." She still won't look at him, eyes cast over the city below them. "Did you think I'd hate you? That I… I couldn't accept you? I don't understand what I  _ did." _

Dan's sternum feels dry. Like something sun-bleached, cracking in the desert. "It wasn't… you didn't do something, I just…"

"I know we said we could see other people, I do," Chloe says, nodding to herself. She finally looks over, glassy-eyed. "But I would've told you."

"I know you would've," he tells her.

She looks away again.

"Chloe, with Palmetto, it was…" Dan struggles to find the words. "I just ended up so deep and I—I  _ was  _ scared of how you'd react, because—because I knew I'd deserve it."

"So you lied," she says, her voice trembling. "You lied because it was easier."

Dan insists, "It was fucking eating me alive—"

"And it was still easier," Chloe repeats. "Easier than talking to me."

"Because I'm a  _ coward,  _ Chloe!" Dan's trying not to raise his voice, and it just cracks over the words instead. "And this thing with Luce, I don't… I don't even understand it, and I've just been trying not to—I mean, if he'd…"

"Is it…" She glances over at him. "Are you even attracted to me? Were you ever?"

Dan gapes at her in disbelief. "Chloe."

"How am I supposed to know, Dan?" she asks wetly, scrubbing a hand over her eyes. "How can I believe anything from you?"

Dan grips the railing with both hands, feeling the metal bite into his palms. He closes his eyes and says, "I'll tell you anything."

"Would you have ever told me the truth?" Chloe asks. "If Lucifer hadn't made you."

Dan says, "No."

"How long have you been fucking him?"

"Since the Dunlear case."

"Would you have ever told me that?"

"Yeah," Dan says. "If I'd… if I knew what to make of it."

Chloe asks, "Are you in love with him?"

It's been two and a half weeks. Dan's throat seizes up.

Chloe reaches for him, delicate fingers with ragged nails tracing over his knuckles, and he turns his palm up so he can hold her hand when she asks him, "Are we over?"

Dan's eyes are wet. He fucking hates crying in front of her and he hates that he has to hate it, that there's this chain wrapped around his throat, tightening, someone else's shame he can't slip his fingers under.

"Don't you want to be?" he asks.

"I want our daughter to grow up happy," she tells him. Her mouth is quivering and, God, he still wants to touch it. Can't imagine not wanting to touch it. "And I want none of this to have happened and I want you to  _ fix  _ it and I want you to stop  _ hurting  _ me."

Dan puts a hand up to his face and gasps into it, like she won't be able to see. She drops his other hand and wraps her arms around him, and his face is in her hair. It smells like the same green bottle of shampoo she's been using for a decade. A tenth of his life.

_ I wanted you to be the best part of it,  _ he thinks.  _ I hope I'm not the best of yours. _

"I think we both know how to do that," he tells her. "We're… we're no good for Trixie if we're no good for each other."

She pulls away, her eyes wide and determined, meeting his gaze.

"I'll always be Trixie's dad, you know." Dan purses his lips, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. "And I'll always—I want to be a part of your lives. But I think I… the work I've gotta do, Chlo. It can't be like this."

Chloe nods, taking up his hands again. She suggests, "Maybe we should wait to tell Trixie? Just until Palmetto is taken care of."

"Yeah," Dan agrees. "Uh, I think that's… yeah."

She runs her thumb over the edge of his palm, lips twitching. "And promise me something?"

Dan says, "Of course."

"Lucifer's the best partner I've ever had. Promise you won't steal him at work?" Chloe asks. "And  _ never  _ tell him I said that, because he'd never let me live it down."

Dan laughs, only sounding a little forced. "Jesus, no—I'd shoot him within a  _ day.  _ I'm glad it works for you, because Jesus Christ."

"I  _ did  _ shoot him," Chloe reminds him, which—

Oh, shit. That can't be a coincidence, can it?

Dan files it away for later. He squeezes Chloe's hand and says, "I promise."

Chloe smiles sadly at him. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah," Dan says. "I do. I love you, too."

He follows her back inside. Lucifer's playing the piano, but he looks up when Chloe rests a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's just work on the case tomorrow, okay?" she says. "Try not to be naked next time."

Lucifer smiles cheekily. "Don't be early, Detective."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Definitely only need to learn that lesson once."

Dan comes to stand on Lucifer's other side, resting an elbow on his shoulder.

Chloe clears her throat and heads for the elevator. She walks inside and then pauses with her finger hovering over the button.

"Hey, dummy," she says, her voice turning bittersweet as she glances at them. "Take care of him, okay?"

"Ah, Detective," Lucifer protests, "it's still unclear as to whom you're—"

The elevator doors slide shut. 

Dan nudges Lucifer over so he can sit down on the bench, then rests his head on Lucifer's shoulder.

Lucifer props his cheek up on top of Dan's head.

"So," says Dan. "Why do you only bleed around my ex-wife?"

"Separated, I thought."

Dan's chest twinges. "Not anymore."

"Oh." Lucifer's hand tightens on Dan's hip. "My condolences. Would you like to—"

"I want you to answer my question," Dan says.

Lucifer sighs. "You won't find it a satisfactory one, considering I have no idea."

"You…  _ what?" _ Dan asks, leaning away to stare at him incredulously. "How's that possible?"

"I've considered plenty of theories," Lucifer answers testily. "That it's my brother's doing, that she's an angel sent to destroy me—"

Dan laughs hysterically.

"But the truth is I've been a little  _ preoccupied,  _ wouldn't you say?" Lucifer gestures between them.

Dan blinks. "You've been too busy fucking me to figure out why you're not  _ immortal  _ anymore?"

"Amongst _ other  _ things!" Lucifer huffs. "Like keeping that splendid arse of yours out of jail, for one."

Dan massages the massive tension headache brewing above his eyebrows. "I can't fucking believe you. I mean, obviously Chloe isn't sent here to destroy you."

"How do you know?" Lucifer asks, sounding surprised. "I thought that one was quite plausible, actually."

"Because she's  _ Chloe,"  _ Dan says. "How could you even—"

Lucifer scoffs, looking away.

Right. Angelic brother who literally sent Malcolm to destroy him.

Dan reaches out tentatively, cups the side of Lucifer's face and turns it to him.

"Hey," he says softly. Lucifer looks at him, eyes flashing with pain. "Do you trust me?"

Lucifer's eyes go wide. 

"Yes," he says, like he's just realizing it himself. It makes Dan's chest hurt.

"You can trust Chloe too." Dan strokes his thumb along Lucifer's cheek. "Promise. And we'll… we can figure this thing out."

Lucifer licks his lips, gaze dropping to Dan's mouth and then back up. "Alright."

Dan smiles shakily and drops his hand.

"But, genuinely," Lucifer asks after a pause. "Are you alright, darling?"

"Honestly?" Dan's throat feels scratchy. "No."

"Right, I thought as much." Lucifer frowns thoughtfully, then tries to quirk his lips. "Well, how can I be of service?"

Dan is so fucking tired, and hungry, and there's all the crying he hasn't done. 

He rests his cheek on Lucifer's shoulder again and asks, "Will you play for me?"

Lucifer kisses the top of his head, and does.

~*~

"How did you disappoint your father?" Lucifer asks one morning. The sunrise is creeping across the bed and he's only still in it because Dan coaxed him into it, and his hair is a hopeless mess.

The question is so unexpected that Dan laughs. "What?"

"The first night we—well. That night." Lucifer is drawing lazy circles across Dan's bare chest, propped up on an elbow. "I said that I could never make Dad happy, and you told me to 'join the club.'"

Dan sobers. "I remember."

Lucifer taps Dan on the collarbone. "So I assumed… or was it just a turn of phrase?"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't… my dad—my parents were, you know, they were a lot better than—than most, maybe," Dan says slowly. He's staring up at the vaulted ceilings, too startled to be anything besides honest. "But I think they always thought I'd come back home. I guess I did, too, right? LA was supposed to, like, I dunno, get something out of my system."

"Or someone?" Lucifer suggests softly.

Dan shakes his head ruefully. "But then I… I met Chloe, you know, and I felt like I was…"

He trails off. Lucifer frowns, tilting Dan's face towards him with a gentle hand. 

"Sorry. I've never…" Dan closes his eyes and clears his throat. Opens his eyes, looks up at him. "I think my dad has this idea of what a man should be, right, and it's—it's like, when you strip a screw trying to get it through the wall?"

Lucifer's never been silent for this long, like, maybe ever. He wets his bottom lip, caresses Dan with his thumb.

"And they didn't like Chloe—or, I mean, they liked her okay, I guess, but you could tell that she wasn't who they wanted me to end up with." Dan tries to scrub a hand over his face—it knocks into Lucifer's, who catches it and laces their fingers together.  _ "Fuck,  _ they're gonna hate that I'm getting divorced even more."

Lucifer nods slowly, bringing Dan's hand to his lips.

Dan swallows thickly. Their bed is warm and the sheets are kicked down to their waists, and the sunlight is strewn across Lucifer's face in a way that makes his eyes almost look red, underneath the earthy brown.

"And the way our marriage was so different than theirs, it was—I mean, I think my dad loved my mom and he wanted her to be happy, but—in a way that was convenient for him, you know?" Dan looks up at the ceiling again, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. "And I thought, like, maybe it's a good thing he doesn't understand me, but…"

He trails off again, choking up.

Lucifer whispers, "It's alright, love."

"But I think I'm just as bad," Dan says, voice cracking. "In the end."

Lucifer kisses him, once, this ache behind it, and murmurs, "You're trying to be better, aren't you? It must count for something."

Dan says, "Maybe," and, "I hope so," and Lucifer kisses him again. 

"Who did you want to become?" he asks softly, his nose brushing against Dan's.

Dan curls into him, trailing fingers up the side of his neck. "What?"

"It's something my therapist said to me," Lucifer explains. He laughs quietly. "That people move here to reinvent themselves. I thought it was a load of poppycock at the time, but lately…"

He doesn't say anything else, swallowing thickly. His stubble is dark and inviting at the cut of his cheek.

Dan traces the line of it and admits, "I don't know. I'm scared I fucked up it."

Lucifer turns his head to kiss at Dan's palm, then rolls on top of him, bracketing Dan with his steady body, noses at his cheek. He murmurs, "Perhaps you've just not finished yet."

And Dan's chest feels like it could crack and he can't even say  _ 'thank you,'  _ and he slides his hands up Lucifer's back avoiding the scars he can't touch—and thinks to himself with the rock of Lucifer's hips against his stomach,  _ Coward, coward, you can't fall in love with him. Coward. _

Lucifer is kissing at the fading hickey on Dan's neck when the phone rings.

Dan groans, fumbling for it on the nightstand, then sits up when he sees that it's the station; he's on call this weekend, which means he's about to catch a body.

"Shit," he says, wriggling away from the scrape of Lucifer's teeth and smushing a hand against his face. "I've gotta—yeah, Detective Espinoza here."

He takes down the info for the case and hangs up the phone, promising he'll be there ASAP. 

"I've gotta go get ready," Dan says apologetically. "There's a new case."

Lucifer pouts a little, then kisses the corner of Dan's mouth. "Shall I come with you?"

Dan nudges their foreheads together. "Nah. Have breakfast with me before I go, though? A quick one."

"Certainly," Lucifer answers. He trails a hand down Dan's chest. "Anything else I could do quickly for you?"

Dan snorts, then smiles into another kiss. "Fuck it."

~*~

Malcolm's already there by the time Dan rolls up wearing one of his new collared shirts to hide the marks on his neck. 

"Hey, Danny Boy," Malcolm says. "Just got off the phone with the lieutenant. She's reassigning the case."

"What?" Dan asks, frowning down at the body—young woman, stab wound, dressed in white. "To who?"

Malcolm crouches down and rolls the body over.

_ 'HAIL LUCIFER'  _ is carved into her back.

"Who do you think?" asks Malcolm.

Dan's stomach churns. He's normally not this affected by crime scenes, even the gruesome ones, but he can't stop thinking—

**_Dan (7:21 AM):_ ** _ He's gonna hate this one _

**_Chloe (7:23 AM):_ ** _??? _

**_Dan (7:23 AM):_ ** _ You'll see when you get here. Maybe you shouldn't bring him. _

~*~

Chloe does, of course—it's not like she could know how personally Lucifer would take the case. 

Dan's still processing the scene when they show up—they just found her ID in the alley, which is a good lead. Lucifer's jaw clenches when he sees the writing on her back; Dan's trying not to eavesdrop, mostly because he can't  _ look  _ like he's eavesdropping, but he can tell from Lucifer's tone of voice that he's upset.

They've only been there a few minutes when one of the protesters from outside storms in, spewing a stream of bullshit about how Lucifer must be responsible for the murders—that he's the 'Prince of All Lies,' that he's—that he's  _ evil. _

Dan's nostrils flare, but before he can do anything Malcolm's already thrown the guy out, and it's probably for the best because Dan can't act like he fucking  _ cares. _ So all he can do is watch while Malcolm has a brief conversation with Lucifer and Chloe, then smacks Lucifer on the ass before he walks away.

As if Dan needed more reasons to get rid of the guy.

Dan finally breaks at the way Lucifer's eyebrows furrow once Malcolm's gone.

"Hey," he says, touching lightly at Lucifer's elbow. "You okay?"

Lucifer tugs away from Dan's touch.  _ "Splendid.  _ Why wouldn't I be?"

Dan looks around; no one's paying attention to them. Quietly, he says, "Luce, you don't have—"

"Don't call me that," Lucifer cuts in tersely. He glances over at Dan's face, then back at the body. "Not… here."

"Okay," Dan says. "Sorry. I've gotta—if I don't go with Malcom…"

"I know," says Lucifer.

Dan leaves him brooding over the body with Chloe. The drive back to the station is shitty—he keeps thinking about Lucifer's face, about the way Malcolm touched him, the way the sunlight spread across his face this morning like the world wasn't a gory mess. 

_ I want them to know you like I do,  _ Dan thinks later that day, watching Lucifer gleefully inform Chloe that the Satanic Bible has an entire chapter on sex.  _ How did this happen? _

He helps Chloe chase down leads while Malcolm works on some of their other cases; any excuse to be around the guy less. That evening, she puts out a BOLO for a suspect and both he and Malcolm get tapped to help.

The suspect's car is found outside some old warehouse. Chloe and Lucifer aren't there yet, so Dan and Malcolm start the search.

Dan's flashlight barely lights the place. He's careful with his steps, half a foot behind Malcolm while they walk.

"Just like old times, huh?" Malcolm asks, then jabs a pointy elbow into Dan's side. "Don't shoot me though."

Dan grinds his teeth. "Funny."

There's a clattering from around the corner—he turns pointing his gun, but it's just Lucifer and Chloe.

"Ah, Detective Espinoza," Lucifer greets, the formality making Dan's skin itch. "Detective 'Stache."

Dan ignores him, turning to Chloe instead. "The place looks abandoned."

Chloe looks like she's about to agree, then flinches. She looks up slowly, her mouth dropping open, and Dan follows her gaze.

There's a body strung up on some old machinery above them, a pentagram carved into its chest. 

Fuck.

They cut the lights on and lower the body. Dan holds up the BOLO info they were issued; the photo's a clear match, even with all the makeup the guy is wearing.

"That's definitely Mike Carey," he says. He carefully avoids the flat stare Lucifer is aiming past him.

"Detectives," Officer Bishop says, coming up behind Dan and Chloe. "Can I show you something?"

Chloe nods as Dan as they both follow Bishop. There's massive streaks of red paint strewn about on the containers and machines; they keep walking until they're at the head of it, and, fuck—

"Giant anamorphic print," Chloe breathes.

Dan's stomach sinks. "'Morningstar.'"

Chloe purses her lips and says, "More Satanic imagery," and she's not wrong, but…

"Maybe it's more specific than that," Dan suggests. The words are curdling on his tongue, but he can't not— "Morningstar's not exactly the most common name for the Devil."

Chloe widens her eyes at him. "You think that someone did this for  _ our  _ Lucifer?"

"Maybe. Someone who—who admires him, or…"

"Dan," Chloe says in disbelief. "Are you saying—?"

"Yes, Detective," Lucifer cuts in from behind Dan. "What  _ are  _ you implying?"

Dan squeezes his eyes shut, blinking slowly before turning around. His stomach's in knots—he  _ hates  _ this, but he's just got this horrible fucking feeling—

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" he asks, nodding his head towards an empty part of the building.

Lucifer follows icily, hands shoved in his pockets.

When they're out of earshot, Dan lowers his voice and gently explains, "Look, I  _ know  _ you hate this, and I know you don't wanna hear it—but this looks personal, Lu—Lucifer. It's like… it's like someone's trying to get your attention."

"That's preposterous!" Lucifer insists, his voice fraying at the edges. "These kids weren't  _ bad,  _ Daniel—they were just  _ pretending  _ to be bad, so I'd never want them hurt! I'm not a  _ monster!" _

"I know," Dan soothes. He reaches for Lucifer's hand, squeezes it lightning-fast before pulling away. "I know, babe. But you've said it yourself—a lot of people, they—they don't. So can you think of anyone who—who's seen your face or something, who might…?"

"People who see my true face can't stand to be  _ near  _ me afterwards," Lucifer answers hotly. "Let alone—"

He cuts off. His eyes are fixed on something—

Malcolm. He's glaring at Malcolm.

Dan's mouth goes dry. "He knows?"

"Amen—my brother told him everything. Or, the convenient bits." Lucifer straightens out his jacket. "When he came to kill me, I tried to scare him off, but he didn't react to my face. And this morning, he—well. He called me the 'man of the hour.'"

Shit. Shit, this could definitely be it, which—

Dan squashes the flicker of excitement. Two people are  _ dead.  _ Taking down Malcolm isn't worth that.

He turns back to Lucifer, whose eyes are—

Burning. Lit up from the inside with this horrible fire and Dan feels a sickening rush of adrenaline up his spine, but it's not—

Dan says, "Lucifer," and Luce turns to him with brown eyes. Human eyes, grieving.

"Did I cause this, Dan?" he asks, and it's worse. Dan would take the anger, take it all pouring onto him, before he heard this thing in Lucifer's voice again. "Is it—"

_ "No,"  _ Dan says fiercely. He takes a breath, gentling his voice. "But I've gotta throw you off this case."

Lucifer takes a half-step back. "What?"

"If this was Malcolm," Dan explains quietly. "Then he knows what this looks like. He knows you either look guilty or—or some kind of influence, here. And if Chloe or me don't get suspicious,  _ that's  _ suspicious."

Lucifer growls, "We need to  _ punish  _ this pathetic insult to—"

"We will," Dan promises. He gestures downwards with his hands, like,  _ 'Keep your voice down.'  _ Lucifer purses his lips. "We will, okay?"

Lucifer turns on his heels and marches away, back towards Chloe. _"Detective,_ you cannot honestly believe the absurdity that Detective _Douche_ has just slandered! Tell him! Tell him that it's utterly preposterous to imply I might be—"

"Lucifer," Chloe says, holding up both hands. "What's going on?"

She glances over at Dan, who jerks his head in a nod.  _ 'Go with it.' _

"That I might be  _ involved  _ in this case!" Lucifer repeats. His voice is pitched up, echoing off the walls. The whole place is staring. "That I need to be  _ removed  _ from the investigation like—like some kind of  _ criminal." _

"Lucifer," Chloe says sternly. "I don't know what's going on here, but if you can't keep your emotions in check, you  _ do  _ need to go home. Now."

Lucifer storms out of the warehouse without another word.

Fuck, Dan really hopes that was him playing along. 

Chloe comes up to him once Lucifer's gone and asks, "Hey, you wanna tell me what that was about?"

Dan looks for Malcolm; he's on the other side of the building still, talking to some Unis. 

"Try not to react," he warns. She looks down at her clipboard. "There's a chance that Malcolm did this."

Chloe flips a page over. "What? That's insane."

"I know it sounds that way, but think about it." Dan scuffs his foot against the floor, choosing his words carefully. "Malcolm tries to kill Lucifer, they make some kind of weird deal instead and now he thinks they're buddies? So maybe he's obsessed with the guy, or maybe he's—he knows we're onto him and he's trying to get our attention. I don't know, but…"

"Okay," Chloe allows. She walks a little ways past him, eyes combing the room like she's still scanning for evidence. "You sound less insane. But that's still—"

She cuts off and crouches down suddenly, pulling an evidence bag out of her pocket. "Dan, look at this."

There's a cufflink on the floor; Chloe bags it and then holds it up for Dan to see.

"A monogrammed 'M,'" Dan says. Clear as day.

Chloe looks up at him. "Dan… you know I have to ask. Could this be Lucifer's?"

Dan drags a hand down his face. "How old's the body?"

"Same as the other vic," Chloe says. "Late last night."

Relief floods in. Dan says, "He might have a pair like that, but he wasn't wearing them today or yesterday."

Chloe's shoulders visibly relax. "Are you sure?"

"I was, uh. I was with him." Dan feels his face heating up; he looks away. "The whole time. There wasn't, uh—I watched him get dressed."

"Oh. Mhm." Chloe clears her throat, turning away too. "Sorry, I'm just—it'll take getting used to. Um, not because he's— _ he,  _ but—"

"Nope, I get it," Dan says quickly. Fuck, this is almost worse than the murder part. "But, just—he didn't do this, okay? If that's his, someone planted it here."

Chloe scrunches the evidence bag in her hand. "I know that. Lucifer wouldn't—I know."

Dan nods. "Let's just get back to the station."

They drive separately and hand the evidence off to the lab. It gets processed quickly, because there's nothing to process.

"Shit," Chloe mutters, which is exactly how Dan feels.

They're heading for Dan's office when Detective Jameson waves them over.

"Hey, Decker," she calls tauntingly. "Your partner's on TV."

Well, fuck. Zero percent chance that's good news.

And it's not. The reporter is saying that Lucifer  _ attacked  _ some street preacher, which—

"This is ridiculous!" Chloe says, gesturing at the TV. “Lucifer didn't  _ attack  _ the guy, he was clearly defending himself."

Jameson shrugs and says, "Still hot."

Dan can't, like, totally disagree. But Chloe is smacking him on the arm and saying, "Dan,  _ look." _

She pauses on a close-up of Lucifer pining the preacher to a light post. The preacher has one hand outstretched, and he's wearing—

"Cufflinks," Dan says. He holds up the evidence bag and rotates it. "This isn't an 'M,' it's a 'W.' Chloe, I think I was wrong."

"Half-wrong," Chloe corrects quietly. "Lucifer  _ is  _ being framed. Who would wanna take the Devil down more than a religious fanatic?"

Dan hurries into his office to grab his jacket. "We've gotta find him."

~*~

It takes forever to get to Lux in the evening traffic, especially with rain starting to fall. They run into Malcolm as they're setting up to canvas, which makes Dan's hair stand on end.

"What're you doing here?" Dan asks.

"Hey, buddy. I was just heading home and I figured, better see how Lucifer's doing with all the drama." Malcolm claps Dan on the shoulder. "Then I got the call on my radio. He's up in his penthouse, last I saw him."

"Right," Dan says warily. "Have you seen the preacher?"

"Not since I pulled Lucifer off 'im," Malcolm answers. He touches Dan's arm again, then strolls away towards a cluster of officers.

Chloe pulls Dan back over to their own search party. "Hey, what did Malcolm say?"

"Lucifer's in Lux," Dan tells her.

"Okay. You and me should check in there and make sure he's okay." Chloe turns to the other officers. "Everyone else, spread out and search the area first."

Dan follows Chloe inside. It's early enough that the club isn't open, so there's no one watching the door—even though it's unlocked. 

They find Lucifer at the deserted bar, sipping a glass of whiskey. He doesn't turn to look at them when they head down the stairs, so Dan doesn't notice the fresh bruise on his cheek until they're next together.

"Shit," Dan says. He reaches out to cup Lucifer's face, but he flinches away. "What happened? I thought—"

"Courtesy of my brother," Lucifer mutters bitterly. He turns to Chloe, raising his voice. "Have you come to take a shot at me as well, Detective? Everyone's doing it."

Chloe is standing on his other side. She's watching him carefully, guarded concern bleeding through in her voice—like she's afraid she'll spook him, which she might. "Mm, yeah. Your scuffle with the preacher made the nightly news."

Lucifer scoffs. "That was about five disasters ago."

"Tell us what happened," Dan coaxes gently. "Is your brother still here? Are you safe?"

_ "Safe?"  _ Lucifer barks out a laugh. "You can't even protect my reputation, Detective, let alone my—"

"Lucifer," Chloe says.

"Are you fucking serious?" Dan asks, bristling. "You're not actually pissed at me for—"

_ "Lucifer,"  _ Chloe says again, and there's something wrong with her voice and the sound of her gun drawing—

Dan jumps between them, one hand raised to placate Chloe and the other gripping Lucifer's wrist.

"Chloe," Dan asks warily, ignoring Lucifer's laugh of disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Chloe's hands are shaking. Her gun's still pointed at Dan. She nods her head at something behind the bar.

Cautiously, keeping Lucifer behind him, Dan allows them both to creep forward to look.

The preacher is dead. Bullet to the head.

Lucifer yanks free of Dan's grip and shoves him away; he stumbles into Chloe, who catches him and redirects him to the side.

When Dan regains his footing, a group of officers are storming down the stairs, guns raised.

"Come on, Detective," Lucifer says. "You can't honestly believe that I killed that pathetic malcontent, can you?"

Chloe shakes her head. "It doesn't matter what I believe."

Lucifer's face falls. He says, "That's all that matters, Detective." 

Like it's obvious. Dan's the only one without his gun drawn. He feels sick.

"Lucifer Morningstar," Chloe says slowly. "You're under arrest."

Dan says, "Chloe—"

Lucifer laughs again. It's high-pitched and hysterical, and he turns around to grab his drink off the counter.

Chloe grits out, "This isn't  _ funny,  _ Lucifer."

"Isn't it?" Lucifer asks. He grins, points a finger at each of them in turn while he talks. "I think this is the grandest joke I've heard in all my time. And the best part is—it's on  _ me!" _

Dan tries, "Luce—Lucifer, you don't have to do this. I believe you."

_ "Do  _ you?" Lucifer asks in exaggerated shock. "Come now, Detective Espinoza, you should know better than anyone what I'm capable of!" 

"You're right," Dan says. He can feel the tension building, knows they're all hearing— "I do."

"I'm the Devil!" Lucifer says, still pacing. The glass is slipping in his hand. "All of humanity's sins are my fault, aren't they? So why not add one more murder to the pile?"

Chloe begs, "Lucifer, just come quietly to the station. We can sort—"

"That's  _ boring,  _ Detective!" Lucifer tells her. He sets the glass back down and stalks towards one of the Unis—a new recruit Dan hasn't even met. "You, there, newbie! Riddle me with bullets and that way you can all go home, drink an ice cold beer, and feel  _ better  _ about yourselves!"

"Don't shoot," Chloe warns. "He's unarmed."

"Oh, you don't know that!" Lucifer says, grinning wildly. "Maybe I have a gun!  _ Do it!" _

He reaches into his jacket pocket and Dan and Chloe both shout over the sound of a gunshot and—

The bullet shatters a bottle on the shelf directly behind where Lucifer was just standing. Cocktail napkins flutter all around them and settle in disarray.

It doesn't—he's just  _ gone. _

Chloe's voice is shaking. She says, "Search the area. He couldn't have gotten far."

The officers disperse, some of them going to check the upstairs. Dan staggers over to a booth and sits down, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat with a palm pressed against his mouth.

Chloe sits down next to him.

He doesn't look up. "You can't really think—"

"Of course not. It's a frame job," she says. Her voice is wet and steady. "But what was I supposed to do?"

Dan closes his eyes.

"Dan," Chloe says gently. Her hand runs up his spine. "We're gonna fix this, okay? But you've gotta pull this together. There's no way they'll let me catch this case and that means it's gotta be you."

Dan shudders, takes one more breath, and straightens his back. "You're right."

Chloe nods resolutely. She squeezes his shoulder and says, "Let's go."

"Yeah." Dan clears his throat and stands with her, walking back over to the collection of officers. "Okay everyone, listen up. I'll run point on this until we can get in contact with the lieutenant. This place is a big building and—uh, Morningstar, leases the whole thing so we'll have to search it floor by floor."

They organize groups to look for evidence and more people to spread out and find Lucifer. Dan's got a feeling—the kind he'd pray about, ignoring the irony—that wherever Lucifer disappeared to, they won't be able to find him unless he wants to be.

Malcolm arrives with his canvasing group from before. He makes a beeline for Dan, looking wide-eyed and twitchy, and asks, "Hey, what happened to Lucifer?"

Dan grips a shelf under the bar with both hands until his knuckles feel like they'll pop. "He disappeared," he says flatly. "He's on the run."

Malcolm nods, then gets distracted by whatever some Uni is doing. Dan's thinking about keeping an eye on him when another officer appears, telling Chloe that they've found the murder weapon.

Shit. Dan recognizes that gun.

He waits for a few minutes, just to be safe, then approaches Chloe again.

She notices walking over and casually moves further away from the others. "What's up?"

Dan keeps his voice down. "Not here. Meet at your place when we close down the scene?"

Chloe nods, and they go their separate ways.

~*~

Dan meets Chloe at Penelope's house an hour and a half later; Trixie's already asleep, thankfully.

"So what did you find?" Chloe asks.

Dan braces himself. "That gun is the same one I gave to Malcolm."

Chloe's eyes widen. "That he wanted to use to kill Lucifer?"

"Yeah," Dan confirms. He runs an agitated hand through his hair.  _ "Shit.  _ If I hadn't—"

"Feel sorry for yourself later," Chloe tells him. "We've got jobs to do. Finding Lucifer, first."

Dan says, "Okay. I can go—"

"You need to focus on the case," Chloe cuts in.  _ "Fix this,  _ Dan. Find a way to clear his name."

"You're right." Dan purses his lips. "I will."

"Besides," Chloe says, composure wavering. "Lucifer thinks I abandoned him. I've gotta be the one to bring him back."

Dan tells her, "You did the only thing you could, Chlo. I know he's upset, but you're right—we'll fix it."

Chloe rubs at her eyes. "I hope so. We should both get some sleep. Start looking in the morning."

"Yeah," Dan agrees. "I guess I'll see you then."

~*~

Dan doesn't sleep that well, and the shitty convenience store coffee he chugs the next morning mostly ramps up his nerves while leaving him exhausted as hell, but he pushes through. 

The case is going to shit, though. He specifically chose the gun to be untraceable, so the only way to connect it to Malcolm would be if Dan confessed, which—

Not ideal. But the cufflink has no DNA or fingerprints, and they couldn't find anything else linking someone besides Lucifer to the crime scene. There were no witnesses. 

The only hope they have is to try and track Malcolm down and pray he gets sloppy.

Chloe calls in with a lead; she hasn't found Lucifer, but she and Maze—

(As a sidenote, what the fuck?)

—just missed Malcolm at his house. 

"It was so weird," Chloe says. "He told Mel that he was going to get a beer. Does that make any sense to you?"

Dan shakes his head. "No, when I saw him, he was scared. I think—"

Something flickers in the corner of his eye. He looks up from the files he was sifting through on Chloe's desk and sees a familiar silhouette in his office.

Mother _ fucker. _

"Chloe, I've gotta go," he says. "I'll call you back soon."

He hangs up and walks quickly inside, drawing the blinds immediately.

There's another man in here with them, who Dan ignores in favor of scolding Lucifer.

"Are you  _ crazy?"  _ he hisses.

Lucifer is sprawled in Dan's chair, holding up his toy gun to his favorite wobble head. "Don't move," he drawls, "or wobbly head gets it."

At least the sense of humor is back.

"Christ, Luce," Dan says, dragging a hand over his face. "You know I believe you, but there's still an  _ active manhunt _ going on for you."

"Yes, and this is the last place you'd look, isn't it?" Lucifer asks. He grins cheekily. "I thought it was quite clever."

Dan softens a little. "You're such a fucking dick."

_ "Darling,"  _ Lucifer gasps in mock scanalization and puts a hand to his chest. "Not at  _ work." _

The other man is squinting at the two of them with his arms crossed. He asks, "Can we get on with this, please?"

Dan blinks at him. "Sorry, who the fuck are you?"

"This is my brother, Amenadiel. I know, I know, it's quite shocking." Lucifer pauses for dramatic effect. "I'm much more handsome than he is."

It's weirdly comforting, between all the bullshit, that not all angels are White dudes. Dan scrubs a hand over his face and says, "Sure. What're you doing here, Luce?"

"We're looking for Malcolm," Lucifer explains. "And we've got a lead that we need your help to address."

Of course he's going after Malcolm. 

Dan sighs. "We all wanna take him down, Lucifer. But it's gotta be legally this time."

"It's not as if  _ we  _ can kill him," Lucifer reminds him. "I'll make every effort to bring him in alive. Unharmed, however…"

"No complaints here," says Dan. "What'd you find out?"

Lucifer explains, "Malcolm is trying to skip town, which he needs quite a bit of cash to do. We learned from an…  _ associate  _ of mine that he might be meeting someone named 'Tommy?'"

Dan raises his eyebrows. "You know there's like a million—wait." It clicks. "A  _ beer!  _ Of course."

Lucifer smiles wider and says,  _ "That's  _ my boy! We'd very much like to know what you just realized," and, it's—

This is a serious fucking situation. It is, and Dan knows that, but he can't help the warmth spreading up his stomach to his cheeks.

"It's Tommy Campolongo," Dan answers, clearing his throat. "He runs a drug operation out of an old brewery on Third."

"Splendid, darling." Lucifer stands, setting Dan's stuff back down on his desk. "We'll be on our way for now, then."

"Wait," Dan warns, holding up a hand. "You should know—I'm gonna give Chloe the same lead. You should work with her on this."

Lucifer's face twists up with hurt. 

"She believes you, Luce," Dan tells him softly. "She's always believed you. And you'll need all the help you can get."

The faintest smile twitches across Lucifer's face, and then—

Dan's paperwork flies everywhere in a gust of wind when they vanish.

Dick.

He pulls out his cellphone and gives Chloe a call to explain the situation.

"Tommy Campolongo?" she says. "That makes sense that he'd have cash on him. But he's not gonna have it over nicely."

Dan grabs his keys off his desk. "I'm leaving the precinct now."

"Okay," Chloe says. "Meet me there with backup—I'm not far."

Dan winces. "Chloe don't go—"

She hangs up. So, yeah, she's gonna go in alone.

Dan locks his cellphone and presses his fingertips into the tension above his eyebrows. Fuck,  _ fuck.  _ This could go bad so fast, especially with Luce and Chloe in the same place. Maybe he shouldn't have told her. He keeps making shit worse and they're running out of time, and—

Dan knows what he's gotta do.

~*~

By the time he gets to the brewery, Malcolm, Amenadiel, and Maze are all gone. Chloe has Lucifer with his hands up, and he looks upset but not ready to bolt.

"You've gotta trust me," she's telling him.

Dan steps forward and says, "Put your hands down. We've got the evidence we need."

Chloe looks shocked. "You do? What'd you find?"

Lucifer is watching him warily. 

_ I can't tell you,  _ Dan thinks.  _ You won't let me. _

"It's better if I show you," he says, and Lucifer follows without resisting.

~*~

They make it back to the station, and leads the way inside.

Chloe is leading Lucifer in with a hand on his elbow. She asks Dan, "What's going on?"

Dan looks back at the two of them, then up at the desk sergeant. He knows him, has seen pictures of the two adopted kids he has.

Fuck. This is really it, isn't it?

Dan feels it in his chest—the panic.  _ Coward, coward.  _ The urge to put it all down, bleach it away. He's so fucking good at being scared.

_ ("I'll always kinda miss it," _ Andy had told him, and Dan had said,  _ "It was beautiful.") _

Dan unclips his badge. Unholsters the gun.

_ ("I want Chloe to love me again,"  _ Dan had said. His throat's been raw ever since.  _ "I want you to—") _

"I removed a firearm from evidence lockup," Dan tells the desk sergeant. "And I gave that gun to Detective Malcolm Graham. I believe Detective Graham then used that gun to kill Jacob Williams—the crime that Lu—"

Dan glances behind him, at Lucifer's shocked face.

"The crime that Mr. Morningstar," he corrects, "is suspected of."

"Turn around."

He does.

Chloe quietly begs, "Dan."

"Put your hands behind your back."

He does.

"Detec—" Lucifer cuts off, his voice pained. "Dan. May I remind you of a certain favor that I still owe you? You wouldn't force a Devil to break his word, would you?"

"I don't need it anymore," Dan tells him. He smiles faintly, feeling the metal knock against his wrists as he's led away. "Turns out I make the favor rules."

He has to look away, then, instead of at their faces one last time. He'll always be afraid.

~*~

Being tossed in a holding cell's pretty anticlimactic in the end. Dan leans his back against the rear wall and closes his eyes. They'll transfer him to the local jail later, but he's alone for now. No other criminals locked up with him.

There's a lot to be alone with his own thoughts about. What he'll say to Trixie, how he'll pay the legal fees.

He mostly thinks about Lucifer. Wonders what he'll do with the closet space. 

There's no clock, or windows, so Dan doesn't know how long it's been—it feels like hours, at least, but he's not tired enough for it to be too late at night. His eyes are still closed when the eerily familiar footsteps echo down the hall.

"It's good that they didn't put you in the jailbird getup," Lucifer says warmly. "Orange would be  _ horrid _ with your completion."

Dan cracks an eye open, halfway through forming a quip, but then his heart fucking stops.

Lucifer's shirt is soaked in blood. There's a bullethole.

Dan rushes to the front of his cell, fingers grasping at Lucifer through the bars. "Shit, are you—you're okay? Is everyone—"

"A lot has happened during your brief incarceration, love." Lucifer threads both sets of their fingers together. "I'll catch you up when we get you home. I'm sure you're eager to—"

"That doesn't matter," Dan says. "What happened?"

Lucifer purses his lips. There's this haunted flicker in them, like— "Malcolm is dead. He—everyone is safe now, mind you—but he kidnapped Beatrice in order to—"

_ "What?"  _ Dan covers his mouth to choke back a sob. "Lucifer, tell me—"

"She's  _ safe,  _ Daniel," Lucifer insists. "I swear to you. Although, I can imagine worse for the wear after the ordeal, and—and Chloe as well. Which is why they need you more than I do, right now."

Dan's stomach sinks. "Luce, I can't just—"

"You're being released," Lucifer tells him. He smiles wryly. "You didn't think I'd let you make a liar out of me that easily, did you? Although, truth be told, I'm fairly certain they were already planning on this course of action before I arrived."

Dan blinks. "What?"

"I know," Lucifer complains, all fake huffy like he gets. "I went through  _ all  _ this trouble, collecting bail money, tracking down the absolute  _ best  _ defense attorney in this Dad-forsaken city—who was unavailable, by the way, so it's quite good that we don't need her—and I get here to find that they're already considering dropping the charges."

"Poor you," Dan says dryly. "You can put the bail money in Trixie's college fund if it makes you feel better."

"What's a college fund?" Lucifer asks innocently.

Dan tilts his eyes up to the ceiling.

"You are suspended, though," Lucifer adds. He brandishes a set of keys in his hand. "But I doubt for long. And I talked the  _ lovely  _ man outside into letting me be the one who releases you. As you know, I'm quite good at providing—"

Dan kisses him as soon as the door slides open. He muffles a little gasp of surprise into Dan's mouth, his fingers curling in the back of Dan's jacket.

"Dick," Dan murmurs. He smiles, kisses him again. "You're such a  _ fucking _ dick. Why are you covered in blood?"

"So many questions for your  _ savior,"  _ Lucifer tuts.

Dan pulls away. "I'm serious. Are you okay?"

Lucifer's eyes flick to the side. "And _ I _ was quite serious when I told you to get home to your family. They need you."

"Fine." Dan cups Lucifer's jaw, thumbs at his bottom lip. "But I'm not letting this go, okay? You're gonna give me the full story."

"I have no doubt you'll work it out of me." Lucifer tongues at the inside of his cheek. "Preferably after you work something  _ else _ —"

"I know what you're doing," Dan cuts in. He makes for the exit, Lucifer trailing behind.

Lucifer sighs dramatically. "Fine. Besides, you  _ do  _ still owe me a favor. Can't expect you to go too far before I collect on that."

"So I can make you chilaquiles?" Dan half-jokes.

"Something like that," Lucifer teases back, but it sounds a little wistful. 

Dan collects his personal effects—minus the gun and badge—and walks with Lucifer to the parking deck.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Dan tells him, leaning against the side of his car.

"Yes," Lucifer agrees. "Goodnight, Detective."

Dan frowns, watching him stroll to the Corvette and get ready to drive away. But Lucifer's also right—Trixie needs him. He calls Chloe in the car to give her a heads up and gets on his way.

~*~

Chloe hugs him as soon as he gets through the door. He wraps his arms around her, his eyes squeezing shut when the tears smear against his neck.

"I'm here," he tells her. "I'm so fucking glad you're safe."

"Dan, I don't understand it," she tells him, muffled by their embrace. "It was—Malcolm  _ shot  _ him. He was—I was so sure he was dead and there was so much blood and Trixie—I don't know what she saw, if she saw…"

"You're okay," Dan promises. To both of them. "He's okay. I just saw him. We're all okay, Chloe, you did it."

She sniffles, presses her face more firmly into the crook of his shoulder. 

"You did it," Dan repeats. He kisses her hair, the side of her face. She smells like sulphur and sharp sweat, making him nauseous. He doesn't care. "You were so fucking good, Chlo."

Chloe squeezes him tighter, then pulls back enough to look him in the eye. "How are you here right now?"

"Honestly?" Dan shakes his head. "I've got no idea. I think Luce did more than he's saying, but…"

"It doesn't matter," she tells him. "Why don't you go see Trixie?"

Dan agrees. He peeks into her room and finds her awake in bed, surrounded by stuffed animals and clinging to the biggest one.

"Hi, Daddy," she says. Her voice is so small. Dan's chest cracks.

"Hi, baby. I heard you were really brave today," he says gently, coming to sit at the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry you had to be."

"It's okay," she tells him. "Mommy and Lucifer were there."

Dan purses his lips, nodding. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"Mommy said you were protecting Lucifer so he could help us," Trixie says. She smiles and takes his hand.

_ God,  _ she's so tiny. Dan runs thumb over her little fingers, his heart in his throat. He'd give up anything for her. Whoever he is, whatever other lives he could've lived.

"You're the best dad ever, Daddy," she tells him. "I love you."

(When she was a baby, Dan used to sleep in his car because he couldn't take all the fucking screaming. She'll never remember that, but he will.)

He smiles and says, "I love you too, munchkin."

Trixie turns on her side to face him. "Um. I know you don't live with us right now so you have to go, but… will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Yeah," Dan says, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah, of course, baby. Do you—do you want me to read to you?"

"Something happy?" she whispers.

Dan hears the shower starting upstairs. He reaches for her well-worn  _ Winnie the Pooh  _ book on her shelf and then lays down on top of the covers next to her. The last time he tried to read this one to her, she told him it was only for  _ really  _ little kids—but he thinks maybe it's okay to need that, tonight.

_ "'Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now,'" _ Dan reads, brightening his voice.  _ "'Bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin.'" _

Trixie props her cheek against his shoulder and drifts slowly to sleep.

~*~

Chloe finds him reading to the end silently on his own, turning the pages with a careful hand while Trixie huffs out measured, restful breaths against his arm. She helps him tuck a pillow under Trixie's head so he can stand up again.

"Do you want me to stay tonight?" he whispers as they turn off the light and sneak out of the room. "Uh, on the couch, I mean."

Chloe shakes her head, touching his elbow. "We'll be okay. I think you should check on Lucifer—he seemed really freaked out when he left, but he wouldn't talk to me."

Dan frowns. "He sent me here."

"Of course he did," Chloe says.

Dan hesitates, turning it over, but in the end he trusts her to say what she needs. She was never the one with that problem.

"Okay," he says. "But I'll keep my phone on. Call me if anything—"

"I know, dummy." She smiles fondly, squeezing his arm. "Maybe you should come over tomorrow. I think Trixie could use some family time."

Dan nods. "If you're okay with that. I don't expect you to forgive me."

"Hm, I don't," she answers lightly. Her eyes twinkle. "But you're still her dad. And… and my friend."

"Friends," Dan repeats. He smiles back shakily. "We can do that."

Chloe sees him to the door and hugs him goodbye. He climbs into his car and spends a moment scrubbing his face, trying to ward off the exhaustion, before he goes on his way.

~*~

The penthouse is a fucking disaster. Dan takes in the smashed furniture, the shattered whiskey collection, and the way Lucifer jumps to his feet when the elevator opens.

"Oh,  _ bloody  _ hell, it's just you," Lucifer says, sighing dramatically. "I wasn't expecting you back tonight."

"Uh, not the welcome I was expecting, either," Dan jokes warily, stepping into the room. Amenadiel is on the couch, hunched over a laptop that Dan didn't even realize Lucifer  _ owned.  _ "What the fuck happened here?"

"Old news, darling," Lucifer answers, waving him off. He picks his way over, stepping around a broken table, and takes Dan's hand. "No need to worry."

He's still wearing the bloodstained shirt. He once changed his entire outfit because he said his  _ hair  _ felt a little greasy. 

Dan asks, "What's wrong?"

Lucifer's smile falters. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you—"

"Don't fucking do that," Dan says. "What's  _ wrong?" _

Amenadiel makes a sudden movement, his hand arcing through the air, but—

"Ah, that won't be necessary, brother," Lucifer answers, holding up a finger. He uses the other hand to lead Dan over to the couch and sits them both down. "Right. You'll want a drink for this, darling."

Dan indulges him; he waits while Lucifer pours two fingers from a broken bottle into a glass, then accepts it and takes a polite sip.

Lucifer says, "O-kay, I will preface this by saying that everything is  _ handled  _ and there's no need for you to concern—"

"Oh my fucking God," Dan snaps, making Amenadiel raise his eyebrows. "I'm gonna find one of those daggers and stab you if you don't just—"

"Malcolm shot and killed me," Lucifer says, his voice suddenly going flat and rapidly efficient. "Right before I kicked the bucket, I made a deal with dear old Dad in exchange for—well, it doesn't matter. But he accepted, and what he wants in exchange is for me to capture our mother and return her to her imprisonment in Hell."

Amenadiel sighs. "Luci, I thought we established with Linda that humans don't just  _ believe  _ us."

Lucifer is watching Dan's face with wide, downturned eyes. Softly, he says, "This one does."

Dan reaches out slowly, gently, presses his fingers against the congealed mess of Lucifer's shirt, flattens his palm. He feels Lucifer shudder, feels his own breath catch and stutter in response.

"Are you okay?" Dan asks. His throat barely works. "He—he brought you back? You're—you're gonna be okay?"

"Right," Lucifer says slowly. "Did you miss the bit about my all-powerful mum having escaped eternal damnation?"

Dan cups the back of Lucifer's neck with his other hand and pulls him in, resting their foreheads together, and croaks, "Are you okay?"

Lucifer curls towards him, falling into the places they touch. The blood is sticky and terrible against Dan's hand, but he's afraid of moving it and leaving a stain somewhere.

"You have wretched priorities," Lucifer murmurs. Dan's eyes slip shut when they kiss. "I'm… better with you here, love."

"Oh!" says Amenadiel.  _ "Oh,  _ so this is like—okay. Yeah. Okay."

Dan should maybe worry about that, but he just—

Can't. Not with Lucifer safe. Not with it over.

Almost over, maybe. Dan pulls away to clarify, "So, uh, when you say  _ 'handled?'" _

"This could almost certainly go tits-up," Lucifer informs him with that fake cheerfulness of his. "Best you don't get involved. Have you considered wintering with the grandparents?"

Dan leans his head back against the couch. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"Excellent choice," says Lucifer. "I'll join you shortly."

Dan pats him on the knee—with the sticky-blood hand, accidentally. Whoops. 

Luce wrinkles his nose but doesn't say anything, so Dan just… ignores that. He leaves them to whatever they were doing at the computer and cleans up in the bathroom, watching the blood swirl in rivulets down the drain. 

He's asleep by the time Lucifer comes to bed and wraps around him. At least, he thinks he is—the quiet sob muffled into his shoulder must be a dream.

~*~

Dan wakes up in time the next morning to wrap himself around Lucifer when he tries to get out of bed.

"Sorry, darling," Lucifer says, gently prying Dan's arms off from around him. "Can't afford to dawdle today—wayward mother to catch and all that."

Dan mutters, "We've still gotta talk about that more."

"You are incorrect," Lucifer informs him. He presses one last kiss to Dan's head before slipping out of bed. "See you tonight?"

Dan grumbles in agreement and then rolls over so he can cocoon in the blankets again. He dozes while Lucifer gets ready, smiling to himself to the backdrop of humming and rustling clothes, and finally gets up a little after he hears Lucifer leave for the day.

There's coffee waiting for him in the kitchen, and oatmeal keeping warm on the stove. 

~*~

They take Trixie to the park. Nowhere dark, nowhere to play Hide and Seek.

~*~

It takes two days for Lucifer to get an actual lead—in an honestly cosmic-level (maybe even literally, who fucking knows) coincidence, that's also how long it takes for Dan's suspension to get lifted. 

Dan may have been a dirty cop, but he helped catch a filthy one. And considering their lieutenant is about to become chief of police, he's not surprised she's willing to do a little scrubbing on his behalf to bury the scandal.

The demotion stings enough that he doesn't feel too guilty about not resigning.

Dan misses Jacob from Forensics' going away party, and the introduction to Jacob's replacement, Ella Lopez. He meets her at the crime scene instead, where she's prodding at two metal bars jammed into their vic's skull with a gory fascination.

"Hey, buddy, it's nice to meet you!" she tells him, and immediately yanks him into a bear hug—which isn't how he expected any of his co-workers to greet him anymore. Maybe no one told her.

"Uh, hi?" Dan says. He pats her on the back awkwardly. "Welcome to LA?"

Ella finally lets him go. Man, she's got pretty eyes—big, dark brown. Apparently Dan's developing a type.

"So, Espinoza, you seem like you know the scoop," she says, elbowing him conspiratorially while she bags a hair she plucks from the body. "What's up with Decker and the method actor?"

Dan blinks. "Uh, what?"

"'Lucifer Morningstar,'" Ella clarifies, making air quotes. She gestures at Luce, who's bickering good-naturedly with Chloe just out of earshot. "I mean,  _ mad  _ respect for being that weird in public, but  _ dude." _

Oh, right, that's how normal people react. Dan laughs awkwardly. "You get used to him. He's actually pretty cool."

"Hmm," Ella agrees. "Are they boning?"

Dan coughs with surprise. He turns away, trying to get himself under control; Ella pats him on the back with gusto.

"Uh, she—they—" Dan clears his throat and tries again. "Divorce?"

"Woah, and they still work together?" Ella asks in awe. "McMillan said they've got the best solve rate in the department! That's insane, I could never work with my ex."

Christ. Jesus Christ.

"Uh, no, uh." Dan tilts his face up to the sky.  _ "I'm— _ Chloe's my ex. We're divorced."

_ "Woah,"  _ Ella repeats, her eyes going even wider. "And her new partner looks like  _ that?  _ Bring it in, buddy, you need another hug."

Jacob from Forensics never hugged anyone. Dan resigns to his new fate.

It's kinda sweet, actually, even though the sympathy is a little aggressive and definitely misplaced. He leans into the hug anyway. 

"Daniel," Lucifer whines from a solid thirty feet away, "the detective doesn't believe that the killer is my mother!  _ Please  _ be so kind as to make her see reason."

Fuck. This is really Dan's life now, isn't it?

Ella squeezes him tighter and whispers, "It's gonna be okay, buddy."

~*~

Surprising exactly one person, the killer of this random aspiring actress isn't Lucifer's mom. 

Luce ends up a little banged up by the end of things, though, so Dan doesn't rib him too hard about it. He's lounging on the couch that night, listening to Lucifer sing, when the elevator opens unexpectedly.

Dan perks up a little, thinking it's Chandra—he hasn't seen her in a while, with all the Palmetto shit coming to a head, and it'll be cool to catch up. He's missed—

Shit. That's  _ super  _ not Chandra. Dan scrambles to his feet, but Lucifer is way closer to the door.

The woman is covered in blood and dirt. She says something that Dan can't hear as she collapses to the floor—Lucifer barely catches her.

Dan rushes to them, shoving the piano bench out of the way. Lucifer's holding the woman almost—fearfully.

"It's her," he says, looking up at Dan. "It's Mum."

~*~

Thirty-five minutes later, Dan's sitting on the new chair, watching Lucifer's mom slurp chicken soup directly from a bowl instead of using the spoon Lucifer gave her.

She's freshly showered and wearing the most comfortable looking thing Dan could find in Maze's closet downstairs, which isn't saying much. Dan didn't even wanna go down there on grounds he'd probably get stabbed if she caught him snooping, but Lucifer insisted that was the safer option—compared to being the one alone with his mom.

Comforting.

Lucifer hasn't taken his eyes off her the whole time. Dan's not sure he's even  _ blinked. _

Super comforting.

Jesus Christ. This woman is—she's literally a goddess.  _ The  _ Goddess, the way Lucifer described it. The Mother of Literally Everything.  _ Lucifer's  _ mother.

Dan wipes his sweaty palms off on his jeans. He's historically been pretty good at making parents like him. Like, he's pretty sure Penelope is  _ still _ trying to convince Chloe to take him back.

But Penelope can't, you know, smite Dan with one finger, to his knowledge, so.

"Lucifer," Goddess says suddenly. She puts the bowl down and swipes the back of her wrist over her mouth. "Why is this…  _ human  _ here, and why is it staring at me like it needs to regurgitate?"

_ "Mother!"  _ Lucifer splutters, finally blinking as his hands flutter nonsensically.  _ "He's _ —well, it—there's a—it doesn't matter!"

Sometimes Luce is painfully human. It's in stark contrast with the way Goddess turns and bends her body—like she's still finding new joints.

"Uh," Dan says. "My name's Dan?"

Goddess stares at him for a long, blank moment, then turns back to Lucifer. "Get rid of it."

Super, super comfor—

Lucifer's eyes flash red and Dan swears he can  _ hear  _ the crackle like it's sizzling up from inside him when Lucifer growls, "He  _ stays.  _ And  _ you  _ need to start talking, Mother."

Goddess' eyes narrow, but her shoulders twitch as she tries to relax her posture. Suddenly her voice softens, reminding Dan of the way Trixie coos in her baby-talk voice when she really wants something.

"Is that any way to treat your mother, Lucifer?" Goddess asks, reaching across the coffee table to touch Lucifer's hand; he flinches away. "I've been searching  _ desperately  _ for you ever since I got to this wretched place."

(The soup came from a can in the back of Lucifer's pantry. He dumped the whole thing into a bowl and microwaved it unceremoniously while Dan watched, speechless.)

There's something creeping into Lucifer's voice, but, "I don't believe you," he says. "Why did it take you so long? What destruction have you left in your wake?"

"It's true!" she insists. "I went through  _ several  _ bodies. Do you realize how fragile they are?"

Dan coughs lightly, pulling his legs up underneath himself.

"But I didn't  _ harm  _ any of these creatures." She sniffs with distaste. "If anything, they've been trying to harm me."

"I'm sure," Lucifer says dryly. "If that's really the case, you need to tell us everything."

Goddess rolls her eyes and says, "Fine. From the beginning."

~*~

So, literally every part of this is insane. Dan's going insane. Maybe Malcolm killed him last month and everything that's happened since he woke up in that basement is some weird purgatorial fever dream.

"I don't believe your 'wounded bird' story, Mother," Lucifer is saying tersely. 

Dan's head is between his legs. It's one thing to try and cut someone and not make them bleed, or to listen to Lucifer and Maze talk in some inhuman language when they're tired. But this—the past few days—

"I can prove it to you," Goddess insists.

Body-hopping and the co-creator of everything and Luce was literally  _ resurrected  _ after dying to save Dan's wife and kid, and Dan gets to go surfing and watch cheese melt on quesadillas and shudder through orgasms because of a mother who abandoned her child.

"You're going to have—Daniel? What's wrong?"

Dan tries to talk, but he has to breathe first. Was he not doing that?

"You… remember that crisis?" Dan asks weakly. He closes his eyes when Lucifer's hand runs up his arm.

"Come with me," Luce says, pulling Dan to his feet. His voice turns stern, then, so he's probably talking to his mom.  _ "You  _ don't move."

They end up in the bathroom. Lucifer turns the shower on full blast as Dan sinks to the floor, then locks the door behind them.

"Well," Lucifer says brightly. He sits down next to Dan, far enough away that their thighs don't touch, and Dan shuffles closer immediately. "This is quite the delayed reaction, darling."

Dan hides his face in Lucifer's neck. Smiles, despite all of it, when Luce laces their fingers together. 

It takes him a few minutes to pull himself together enough to talk.

"Critical mass of, like, fuckery." The steam is building around them, loosening Dan's lungs. "It'll pass."

"I should hope so," Lucifer teases. "You still owe me a favor."

Dan snorts. At this rate, he's not sure Lucifer's ever planning on collecting on that.

Lucifer shifts, pressing a kiss to the top of Dan's head.

"I hope you know," he says slowly, his thumb brushing across Dan's knuckles. He makes a sound like his tongue sticks against his teeth. "I…"

Dan kisses the nearest place he can reach. "Yeah." Whatever it is. "Yeah, I do."

Lucifer clears his throat, straightening slightly. "We should get some rest. Investigate Mum's claims in the morning."

"Sleep," Dan agrees coherently.

"I'll put you up in the orgy room," Lucifer tells him, standing and helping Dan to his feet, too. "I think it's best if she doesn't…"

Dan nods and drops Lucifer's hand. "Uh, sure."

They head back into the main room, where Goddess is still waiting. Lucifer shoos her off the couch so he can make it up for sleeping, and Dan shuffles between the closet and orgy room with pillows and blankets for himself.

Goddess wrinkles her nose at him. "He sleeps here?"

At least Dan's graduated from 'it.'

"He's a  _ cop,  _ mother," Lucifer says, fluffing a pillow aggressively. "We'll need his help to investigate your little crime scene tomorrow. More convenient than a pit stop, isn't it?"

"If you say so," she answers. 

Dan smuggles a change of clothes into the room with him under another blanket. That one's gonna be harder to explain.

He turns in for the night after Goddess is set up on the couch, preoccupied with the memories from last time.

The padded floors have been steamed, but Dan traces a hand across the spot the whiskey stain used to be. It feels worse, sleeping in here alone.

It's a fitful sleep, when he finally drifts off. This churning in his stomach that keeps him tossing and turning, terrible half-dreams and fears that make him twitch awake. The room is gaping and empty without a pillow fort and demonic snoring.

Without a shoulder to rest his head on.

Dan gives up eventually and goes to get himself a glass of water; at least it's something to do, and maybe it'll calm his nerves. 

Lucifer is sitting on the other side of the door.

It looks like he was leaning against it before Dan pulled it open—he catches himself with a palm on the floor, then blinks up at Dan in a way that suggests he wasn't sleeping either.

Dan is careful, stepping around him. They don't speak. There's something in Dan's throat.

He fills two glasses at the kitchen sink and carries them back. Lucifer takes one, their fingertips brushing, his eyes still unnaturally bright in the dark. 

The door creaks when Lucifer leans against it again, once Dan's back in the room.

Dan drags his pillows and blankets over and curls up in the same spot on the other side. He wonders if Lucifer hears. He wonders if it helps.

~*~

It takes them a couple hours to retrace Goddess' steps. They end up at a ridiculously swanky hotel downtown. Goddess doesn't have the keycard to the room she says she woke up in, but apparently it doesn't matter—Lucifer touches the door handle and it clicks open automatically.

Dan raises an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

Lucifer just winks.

A lot of the story details line up—phone in the ice box, the massive bloodstains. Then Dan wanders into the adjoining room to avoid a conversation about plagues he'd really like to just pretend isn't happening, and—

"Uh, Luce," he says slowly, but he doesn't get an answer.  _ "Lucifer." _

"What's—" Lucifer stops short when he comes up behind Dan and notices the super-dead body.  _ "Well. _ Liar, liar, slutty dress on fire, Mother."

Goddess says, "Oh, dear."

"Ohh, shit," says Dan. "Oh, shit, I can't be here."

"What?" Lucifer asks.

Dan runs a hand through his hair. "Lucifer, I just got  _ demoted.  _ I can't—sketchy crime scene!"

"We've  _ just  _ resolved the last panic, dear, can we not—" There's a knock at the door. "Bollocks."

"What's the issue?" Goddess asks.

Lucifer patiently explains, "That's a  _ dead body,  _ Mum. Humans don't  _ like  _ that sort of thing. We've got to go."

He grabs Dan by the back of his shirt and pulls him towards the other exit door.

"Why don't we just  _ fly  _ out?" Goddess asks incredulously.

Lucifer snaps, "Because I don't have  _ wings  _ anymore, Mum! We've got to go!"

Goddess starts, "Wha—" but Lucifer shushes her as he drags all of them out the door and they have to sneak to the elevators.

Outside again, Goddess' heels click as she strides behind them. "Lucifer,  _ explain  _ to me! What happened to your wings?"

"I cut them off," Lucifer says, which—

Dan stops short. He'd always assumed—

The Fall, right? That he'd lost them when he Fell. To cut them off himself is—oh, fuck. That APB Chloe put out a few months ago. The wings at the auction. Dan forgot all about it until now.

It must have been horrible.

Dan wishes he'd gotten to see them.

"Nevermind all that," Lucifer says, clicking the key fob to unlock his car. "We've got to get  _ you  _ home and Daniel and myself to work. Then we'll see what you've really been up to, Mother."

~*~

"Oh my God, why are you hovering?" Chloe asks Lucifer later that morning. "Did you and Dan get into a fight or something? Go bother him."

Dan looks up from his desk, literally ten feet away. "Uh, you know I can hear you, right? Who says I want him bugging me?"

"We agreed to joint custody in the divorce," Chloe says mildly.

Dan snorts. "Dick."

Lucifer props an elbow up on Chloe's desk and stage whispers, "That means he likes you."

"I know," Chloe answers wryly. "But seriously, I can't think with you staring at me like that. What's your deal?"

"Nothing!" Lucifer insists. "I'm just wondering, perhaps, if we've caught any new cases. Such as a gruesome murder committed by a disturbingly hot woman?"

Subtle. Dan massages his temples.

"Um, no? Lucifer, you know I'd tell you if—" her phone rings. "Decker? … Yeah, we'll be right there." She hangs up the phone. "Hm. You're in luck—a gruesome murder at Hotel Gleam. Dan, you wanna help?"

Not even a little bit.

"Yep," says Dan. "I'll grab Ella."

~*~

So, Lucifer's mom is in the body of Charlotte Richards, who may or may not have been dealing a  _ lot  _ of coke. Kind of a high-profile body to accidentally steal, but beggars can't be choosers.

Dan's really not okay with his life.

He still shows up at the penthouse that night though, because he's also… well, you know. No one else in Dan's life makes sixteenth century-inspired pottage. 

"Isn't this just… soup?" Dan asks.

Lucifer sniffs indignantly and asks, "How  _ dare  _ you?"

(Dan Googles it under the table. It's totally just soup.)

"Actually though," Dan says, watching Lucifer swirl his wine around in his glass. "Have you seen Chandra lately? How's her favor coming?"

"Hm?" Lucifer waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, that was resolved  _ ages _ ago. I don't expect we'll see her again."

"What?" Dan frowns; Lucifer seems totally unbothered, fishing in his bowl for a chunk of bacon. "And you're just… okay with that? I thought we—you liked her."

Lucifer looks up at him with that annoyingly classic,  _ 'what an absurd question'  _ face. "Of course. It's what they all do."

Dan pushes his bowl away from himself. "Do what?"

"Leave," Lucifer says plainly. "After their favor is done. It's  _ transactional,  _ darling—no sense in getting sentimental."

Dan's chest pangs. "But…"

"You'll do the same," Lucifer says. "Once this business with Mum is all taken care of. Thrown a bit of a wrench in things, hasn't it? But we'll sort it out."

Something in pottage doesn't agree with Dan's stomach. He asks, "Is that what you want me to do?"

Lucifer smiles. He folds up the napkin that was in his lap and stands briskly and says, "Dearie me, I've just realized I've opened the wrong bottle of wine. Bear with, please."

Dan likes the wine in front of him. He drinks it, while he can.

~*~

What's Dan supposed to want? What's he supposed to call it?

The messages on his phone from a decade-old ghost, the two hundred dollar doll that Lucifer buys for Dan's daughter and Chloe seals back up with packing tape. The bed, the teeth on his throat, the panic attack in the bathroom.

He watches Lucifer's mom bake a cheesy noodle casserole and politely nibbles on a charred corner. His shoes are tucked under the bed and Lucifer says that Goddess probably isn't a murderous witch or whatever, so the shoes might as well stay until he figures out what to do with her.

Dan thinks,  _ Take your time.  _ Dan thinks,  _ If she'd killed someone, we would've had more of it. _

~*~

He tries to go home once. Just for some space, to remind himself that his life won't literally implode when this is over. He sleeps on the shitty mattress and buys overpriced milk and cereal at the CVS so there's something without mold on it to eat for breakfast, and he's looking at the weather report and thinking about how it'll be cold enough to layer his favorite hoodie under his jacket, and—

Well, that's at Lucifer's. It's fine. He'll just wear—

At Lucifer's.

Dan flicks through the mostly empty closet. He digs through his dresser drawers, looking for anything he's actually felt like wearing the past month—hell, the past three months, but anything he thought he might want is at Lucifer's and—

_ Oh,  _ Dan thinks.  _ Oh, shit. Do I not live here anymore? _

~*~

It's fine. It was an accident. Or—

The closet space was on purpose. And the cache of stuffed animals from Trixie stuffed in the corner. But Dan knows his way around the kitchen in the dark and he's got a side of the bed that he crawls into even when Lucifer isn't there, and when they're fucking—

Lucifer's face is pressed against Dan's cheek while he rocks his hips into Dan slowly, hands laced together and the little gasping sounds Dan makes every time he gets one thrust closer to losing this filling the air.

_ I can't tell you,  _ Dan thinks. If he doesn't name it, they can't—oh, fuck, he's so close—maybe it won't end. Lucifer never asked him to move in and maybe he'll never ask him to leave. And if he does—

Dan's gotten pretty good at pulling up roots. He'll survive it.

Lucifer lifts his head; his eyes are even darker like this, with all the pupil. He thumbs at something on Dan's cheek and asks softly, "Are you alright? Have I hurt you?"

_ Not yet,  _ Dan thinks. He wraps a leg around Lucifer's waist and asks for it harder.

_ Coward. _

~*~

"Who are you trying to become?" Dan asks, after. 

Lucifer smiles without his teeth, brushes Dan's sweaty hair away from his face. He whispers, "Goodnight, love," and turns out the light.

~*~

Dan gets held up at a stakeout across town, so he doesn't make it over to Lux until it's already open for the night. He makes his way through the crowd and thinks about how long it's been since they've gone dancing; maybe he'll see if Luce is down here tonight, or wants to come back down with him.

He does a double-take near the stairs, catching sight of a familiar afro out of the corner of his eye.

"Holy shit!" Chandra shouts, waving Dan over with one hand. The other is draped over Shreya's shoulder. "Hey, stranger!"

Dan grins, sitting down on the edge of the booth when they make room for him. "Hey!"

"Shreya, you remember, uh—" Chandra narrows her eyes at him, taking a long pause, then bursts out laughing. "Oh my God! Oh, my God, this is so fucking embarrassin'. What's your name?"

Dan barks out a surprised laugh and raises his eyebrows. "You don't remember my name?"

"I'm sorry!" Chandra smacks him playfully. "Lucifer was always callin' you pet names and shit. Unless your name's Detective Darlin'."

Dan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Hey,  _ Chandra.  _ My name's Dan."

"Dan," Chandra repeats. She knocks temples with Shreya, still grinning at him. They look so happy. "How is Lucifer, anyways? I was hopin' we'd run into him."

Dan smiles wryly. "He's, uh, fine? His mom's in town."

"Yikes," Chandra says sympathetically. "Does she know you live here?"

Dan protests, "I don't live—" she raises a scathing eyebrow at him. "Uh. I think she knows I'm… around."

Chandra takes a sip of her drink. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Dan gestures at the two of them. "So, is this, uh…?"

Shreya's the one who answers, pressing a kiss to Chandra's cheek. "We got together two-ish weeks ago?"

"That's awesome!" Dan tells them warmly. "I'm happy for you guys."

Chandra says, "Thanks, buddy."

Dan elbows her conspiratorially and asks, "Be honest—did Lucifer actually help at all?"

"Hmm, you both did, in a way," Chandra muses. She leans in closer when Dan makes a confused face, cupping her hand around his ear like it's a big secret. "Turns out, sometimes you've gotta tell people how you feel."

Dan leans away. Her nails are the same color as the margarita she wraps them around and his heart is in his throat, and her smile is smug without tipping over into mean.

"I think I've gotta go do something," he says. "Do you wanna be friends?"

Chandra pulls her phone out and hands it over. "Put your number in."

Dan types it wrong the first time. He fixes it and hands the phone back to her, and she puts it facedown on the table to give him a one-armed hug, squeezing his shoulder.

"Liquid courage?" Shreya offers, somehow following the thread, and holds out her drink.

"There's not enough in the world," Dan tells her, but he gulps it down anyway. Might as well. "Thanks. Put the next one on Lucifer's tab."

He stands up to go, and Chandra shouts at him, "We already are!"

Dan laughs, shaking his head, and makes his way up the stairs.

~*~

Lucifer is on the couch watching something random on TV; he turns his head when Dan walks off the elevator and smiles.

"Oh, hello," Lucifer greets. "I was starting to think you may not be coming."

"Work," Dan answers apologetically. "I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about that, kind of?"

"Work?" Lucifer asks.

Dan clarifies, "The other thing."

Lucifer tilts his head.

"I, uh, I just—something you said, the other day?" Dan ventures. Fuck, this is so awkward. Should he sit down? He walks close enough to the bar to tap his fingers against it. "It was—I mean, I guess I felt… worried. That you don't know how I feel."

Lucifer stands up and makes his way over to behind the bar, on the opposite end from Dan.

"That's hardly necessary," he says, and drags his finger across a row of bottles as he searches for the right one. He's wearing that vest with the shiny purple back—Dan's favorite, the one that always reminds him fondly of a peacock.

"No, I think it is." Dan clears his throat. "Because it—I want you to know—"

"Can I get you a drink?" Lucifer offers.

"No, I'm okay, thanks. You deserve to—"

"Are you sure?" Lucifer plucks a bottle off the shelf. "I just imported this one from—"

"Just  _ stop,"  _ Dan snaps, harsher than he meant to, but Lucifer just uncaps the bottle and reaches for a glass. "I know what you're doing and this isn't fucking easy for me, okay? But it—it matters, Luce."

Lucifer's shoulders creep up as he sets the glass down.

Dan takes a breath, fingers slipping against the marble countertop. He steadies his voice and says, "I need you to know that—that I don't wanna leave you, okay? That this was never about the favor, or what I—I thought I could get from you, I just… I want to be here."

The bottle clinks against the rim of Lucifer's glass while he pours. "Alright."

"And I've actually been thinking about—I mean—" Dan pauses, watching Lucifer down his drink in one motion. "With the divorce, I'm looking for somewhere to live, you know, long-term. And I was thinking—if… if you don't want to, I can go somewhere else. But I thought—maybe I'm already… here. Maybe I could stay."

Lucifer pours himself another round. He's watching his own hands, hasn't looked at Dan the entire conversation, oh, God, what if he never looks at Dan again?

"If it's a matter of finances," he says plainly, "I own a variety of properties across the city. I'm sure we could find you somewhere suitable at a reasonable rate—I've heard the 'schooling district' is important for offspring?"

"It's not the money," Dan answers, trying to be patient. "I lived alone before Chloe, Lucifer. I could do it again if I wanted to."

Lucifer finally turns around, the bottle of scotch sliding away from him when he lets go of it to gesture with that hand in exasperation. "Then  _ what?  _ What motivation could you possibly have for staying here?"

"Are you—are you  _ serious?"  _ Dan asks. He moves around to behind the bar but he can't bring himself to close the distance. "It's  _ you,  _ Lucifer. It's—I think I'm—"

_ Coward. _

"I think I'm falling in love with you," Dan says hoarsely. The burn in his throat, scratching against it.

Lucifer's eyes are wide and wet with threatened tears that he blinks away, the incredulity shaking the scotch in his hand. "Well,  _ stop  _ it! That's a horrible idea!"

"I know!" Dan agrees, laughing helplessly. "I'm in so over my fucking head, Luce. But it's—it's too late. I can't go back. And I don't… I don't want to. Do you really not—you don't feel it?"

"You should go," Lucifer tells him lowly. "I can't give you what you want, Daniel. I'm incapable."

Dan laughs again, disbelieving. "What do you think I want?"

"All those  _ boring  _ things!" Lucifer insists. He puts his glass down, hard. "Stability and—and child-rearing and  _ doing  _ those tiny things that appear inconsequential, like offering a lift or an ear. Being  _ dependable  _ even when it's at your own expense!"

Dan takes a step forward, hands outstretched reassuringly. Gently, he says, "But you  _ do  _ all that shit, Luce. You make me breakfast and hold my hand even when it's gross and sweaty 'cause I'm freaking the fuck out. I mean, Christ, you know what a  _ school district  _ is! I thought—I thought we both knew what that  _ was.  _ Am I… I just need you to tell me I'm not crazy, man."

"You're certifiable, is what you are." Lucifer laughs, high-pitched, like Chloe's gun is pointed at him five feet from a dead body. "Because clearly I've fooled you into thinking I'm someone I'm not, someone  _ worthy—" _

"You didn't fool me," Dan argues. "I  _ know  _ you."

"No," Lucifer says, "you don't."

Dan takes another step forward. "I do."

"I'm the  _ Devil!" _

Dan throws his hands up and snaps, "I  _ know,"  _ and Lucifer snarls,  _ "Do you?"  _ and his face is gone, charred and blistering like it's been peeled off under a blowtorch, and—

Dan thinks,  _ Did you do that, too?  _ and—

He understands, suddenly. The mutilated wings he can't touch and the nauseous fear that curls up and hisses in his own belly and the fucking horror of  _ what can you make out of this? _

"It won't work," he says, and takes a gnarled hand up in his own. "I'm so fucking tired of running away, Lucifer. I won't do it again."

Lucifer's face flickers back into place. He says, "I don't understand."

Dan swallows. He looks down, traces a careful finger over the ring on Lucifer's hand. "You can't push me away because you're scared. I won't let you."

"You need to leave," Lucifer insists.

"Tell me you don't want me," Dan says. He looks up, meets the confusion in Lucifer's eyes. "You never lie, right? If you can tell me that you don't fucking want me—that you don't want me here—I'll go."

Lucifer's lips purse. He laughs, softly, this beautiful wide-eyed thing spreading across his face. Dan always wants to touch the space between his eyebrows when he looks like that—the gentle furrow of them.

"You still owe me a favor," Lucifer says.

Dan frowns, a little amused. "I… yeah, I do."

"And you'd do anything?" Lucifer asks. "Whatever I asked of you?"

"Of course." Dan reaches as Lucifer pulls his hand away. "Luce, I don't understand."

Lucifer smiles and cups Dan's cheek with the hand and kisses him, chaste and gentle and with the faintest taste of salt even though Dan can't remember him crying, and he feels as all-encompassing as he always does right up until he pulls away. 

"Leave me."

Dan opens his eyes, feeling— "What?"

"Pay me my due," Lucifer says, gently. "And leave me."

—feeling like someone tucked a knife under the nerves in his wrist and pulled, and Dan begs, "Don't do this."

"I have to," Lucifer insists, voice breaking. "Don't you see? There's no  _ choice!" _

"There is!" Dan can't move, has to force his jaw to unclench before speaking. "You've got a choice, Lucifer, you can—"

"But  _ you  _ don't!" Lucifer shouts. Dan takes a flinching step backwards. "You made your deal with the Devil and you wrote him a blank check. Now leave me or make yourself into a liar. And you know what I think of those."

Dan presses his knuckles against his mouth—swears he can feel where the split lip used to be, even though it healed without a scar. He blinks so his vision stops swimming, takes another step away. Another.

Lucifer watches him go.

Dan reaches behind himself and feels for the elevator button. It slips against his fingers, clicks back into place, and he can hear the faint rumble of the lift rising to meet him. 

There's this horrible moment, right before the doors close. When he still thinks Lucifer might ask him to stay.

~*~

Lux is still booming. Dan weaves his way to the bar and rests his elbows against the counter with his face in his hands. He knows all the bartenders; there's a drink in front of him by the time he can lift his head.

He's intertwined with this place. The way the stools scrape against the floor, the stories Lucifer told about the prohibition tunnels underneath that, like he was there—Dan forgot to ask if he was. Maybe he'll never know.

The scotch has notes of molasses. 

_ What the fuck am I supposed to drink without thinking about you?  _

Dan swirls it around in his glass. He keeps turning it over in his head and he should just go—

Home's upstairs.

He should go back to his apartment. Maybe text Chloe, ask if she'll take pity and let him have Trixie a few days early so he doesn't have to be alone.

But there's something keeping him here. Underneath the ache and denial. The way Lucifer spoke, the way he kissed him and held his face and told him to leave—begged.

_ I know you, I know you. _

And Dan does. He knows the body that writhed underneath him and the face that would press against his neck—twisting and sobbing into the kind of person a man would cut off wings his father gave him to become.

_ Anything,  _ Dan thinks.  _ I'd have done anything for you. And you would have hated it. _

There's no love in that. It's a ledger that Lucifer just burned.

Dan finishes the scotch— _ choice. _

He orders a tequila and Sprite next, terrorizing Patrick the bartender— _ choice.  _

_ (I still miss you.) _

Stays until the lights come on and the people around him shuffle and stumble away, and there's the knife's edge moment when he tries to really, really tell himself that he should follow.

The elevator's still on the ground floor; it opens right away.

Dan drags his fingers across all the buttons before hovering over the one for the penthouse. It occurs to him that he could be wrong. He presses the button.  _ Choice. _

Lucifer's at the piano, playing a quiet and wistful "Enamórate." There's this way his fingers change, when he hears Dan walk in, even though he doesn't turn his head.

"What?" Dan asks, making his way over. "No boombox?"

Lucifer smiles, softly, when Dan makes room for himself on the bench. "Haven't lost you yet, have I, darling?"

Dan laughs quietly. He reaches for the glass resting on the piano and takes a sip.

"You're such a dick," he says, resting his head on Lucifer's shoulder. "Never do that again."

Lucifer presses a kiss into Dan's hair and starts to sing.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me in my continued dumpster-fire adventures in wildly underestimating my own word counts [on Tumblr!](http://www.yoursummerfrost.tumblr.com)


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